


Into the Fire

by suezahn



Series: Kismet [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Episode V: Empire Strikes Back, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Bespin, F/M, Humor, Kissing, Love, Millennium Falcon - Freeform, Romance, Sex, Trip to Bespin, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 14:08:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 83,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6707383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suezahn/pseuds/suezahn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whether things are getting better or worse after the disaster on Hoth really depends on one's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters depicted herein are the property of Lucasfilm, Disney, etc. My only profit is in the form of readers' feedback. Please be generous!
> 
> Note: This story was originally written in 2009 and has now be revised and updated for consistency with the rest of the Kismet Series. A very special thank-you to my lovely proofreaders: Erin Darroch and Marjorie Joyce.

The moment we choose to love we begin to move towards freedom.  
—Bell Hooks

  
There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.  
—Friedrich Nietzsche, _On Reading and Writing_

* * *

The Rebel Command Center of Echo Base, on the ice planet of Hoth, was in shambles. Heavy, sporadic explosions from the savage conflict raging outside rocked the cramped room, causing equipment and occupants to sway. The latest unnatural quake was violent enough to tip the massive plotting console in the center of the room past the balance point; the tall screen cracked and fell to the icy floor, the loud shatter adding to the chaotic din.

Princess Leia Organa struggled to keep her feet on the trembling floor as she rushed from one station to the next to monitor the battle, even as system after system began to fail. The acrid odor of fried electronics burned her nostrils but couldn’t mask the coppery tang of blood now infusing the air. Despite a throat already hoarse from fumes and anxiety, she shouted out orders.

General Carlist Rieekan had made one last attempt to convince her to join the rest of the noncombat personnel on the next transport out. He was an old friend and advisor, one of the few remaining ties to her former life—to a world that no longer existed—but she’d stood firm until he’d relented with a sad smile and murmured goodbye, leaving her to her chosen fate as he headed outside to lead his troops in the rearguard defense.

Still, she wasn’t alone in staying behind to delay the overwhelming Imperial assault; there were a handful of stoic Rebels with her who likewise, for personal reasons or a sense of duty, had ignored the orders to evacuate. As for the last princess of Alderaan, she had finally lost her desire to run anymore. She still hadn’t assimilated the reality that Han Solo was finally making good on his long-standing threat to leave. When the report had come back that Commander Luke Skywalker was shot down, his Snowspeeder crushed while leading a brave assault against the approaching Imperial AT-AT walkers, it had felt as though the massive ceiling of ice overhead had already caved in on her. Once again, in less than the span of a single horrible day, the fragile support structure she’d rebuilt her life upon had been reduced to nothing. It was one blow too many.

Many brave fighters were dying for a greater good out on the frozen planet’s surface, a cause worthy of their blood. It was time to make a final stand with them, now that she had lost everything else. It seemed fitting, this one last selfless sacrifice.…

_At least this should be quick._

“Are you all right?” a loud voice called out from across the crumbling room.

Leia recognized the deep voice and turned in shock from where she and a fellow Rebel had been hunched over a monitor. Captain Han Solo stood in the doorway to the Command Center, his eyes finding hers despite the turmoil between them. A rush of conflicting emotions flooded through her but it was incredulity that boiled to the surface. _What’s he waiting for—the hangar bay to collapse?_

“Why are you still here?!”

“I’d heard the Command Center was hit.” Ignoring her chilly reception, he started clearing a path through the shaking obstacle course of debris and then began climbing over the smashed plotting console.

Still trying to follow the struggle against the invading army outside, she refused to spare him another glance but yelled over her shoulder, “You’ve got your clearance to leave.”

The bitterness she felt toward him of late, spurred on by his public announcement the day before that he really intended to leave this time, made her voice as hard and cold as the icy walls surrounding them. She could only guess why he wasn’t gone already, but it was obvious now that he intended to interfere with her plans to fight to the end.

“Don’t worry—I’ll leave. But first I’m gonna get you to your ship.” He’d almost reached her now, ignoring the bedlam as he continued on course, locked on to her like a laser targeting system.

See-Threepio, his golden visage glowing in the diminished light and fine ice crystals sifting down from the cracking ceiling, struggled at her side as the ground trembled again. “Your Highness, we must take this last transport. It’s our only hope!”

The protocol droid’s plea stopped Leia for a moment. _Hope? What hope is there?_

Not only would she die here, but it now appeared that this insane, stubborn Corellian fighting his way toward her would die as well, a pointless gesture considering how hard he’d worked at denying that this was his fight. But it was her fight and she planned to take out as many Imperials as she could before it was over. She looked back to the tall smuggler just as he stepped around a last piece of smashed equipment to reach her side. Not about to let him impede, she dodged out of reach and slipped around behind him, leaving Han to spin around in disbelief as she stumbled to the other end of the shaking Command Center.

“Send all troops to Sector Twelve to the South Cove to protect the fighters,” Leia croaked out to another soldier still seated at his post. No doubt it was the blistering fumes that caused her voice to crack on the last word. There were still ways of escape for those troops outside where the X-wings and a few remaining transports were parked for a quick evacuation.

With a loud boom, a more powerful explosion rocked the room and almost knocked them all off their feet. Along with the new wave of fear that swept through her came the sudden realization that she was unarmed. The possibility of being captured by the Empire again roiled her stomach; resolving not to let that happen, she cast a panicked glance around for a blaster. What bitter irony that would be, caught in the middle of a battle without a weapon in a war she’d helped start.

_There’s a fitting epitaph: “She wasn’t prepared.”_

The base PA system crackled to life, echoing around them. “Imperial troops have entered the base. Imperial troops have—” The urgent announcement died in a burst of static.

A strong, irresistible hand clamped onto her upper arm, tight enough to leave a bruise. Solo had caught up. Unable to help herself, she looked up into his face and found a grim expression there that said no more wisecracks, no more games, no more running away from him. “Come on—that’s it.”

In his eyes was unrefined emotion, so raw and open to her for once that the rest of the world fell away from her awareness. Through all the layers of hurt and resentment she’d constructed since his rejection after Ord Mantell weeks ago, for one timeless second, it appeared that Han did still care and had guessed at her intention today. His hold on her arm tightened until she winced, breaking their silent communication, and she turned her head to the soldier seated in front of her. “Give the evacuation code signal.”

With her last duty dispensed, she looked back to Han, suspecting her countenance wasn’t nearly as brave as she wanted it to be as the new wave of adrenaline hit her system. _Maybe you aren’t ready to die just yet._

Grabbing her other arm from behind, Han pulled her around ahead of him and steered her toward the exit. Almost too late, she struggled against his unyielding grasp long enough to turn back and give one last order. “And get to your transports!”

Without ceremony, he shoved her through the open hatchway and out into the crumbling corridor.

“Oh! Wait for me!” Threepio called out from behind as they ran for their lives.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The deep canyon of the massive asteroid swiveled around outside the _Millennium Falcon_ ’s canopy with dizzying effect before it slid below view as Captain Solo righted the ship to skim along the rocky horizon.

Still in shock from the most frightening flying Leia had ever witnessed, let alone experienced, she watched Solo’s hands as they moved with deft grace over the flight controls—a caress that left her in equal parts impressed and confused. Despite all the anger and heartache she felt toward him, she had to admit that he was within his rights to brag about his skill. She’d always known he was a talented pilot, but what he’d just demonstrated in their escape from Hoth left her in dumbstruck awe. How could the Alliance ever afford to lose such a valuable asset?

Because of Han, she could now say she’d flown through an Imperial Navy task force _and_ an asteroid belt—it would be quite a story to tell, assuming she survived long enough to share it with anyone.

Fascinated by something below her field of vision, Han nudged his copilot and pointed toward the barren, pockmarked surface. “There. That looks pretty good.”

In spite of a stubborn reluctance to interact with him, curiosity made Leia shift to the edge of the navigator’s chair. Unable to see anything remarkable, she stood and stepped between Han and Chewbacca to peer out below the helm. “What looks pretty good?”

“Yeah. That’ll do nicely.”

Annoyed that he wasn’t answering, Leia was about to demand an explanation but Threepio chimed in first. “Excuse me, ma’am, but where are we going?”

Leia shrugged at the protocol droid. As if she understood this baffling man. He was a walking—swaggering!—contradiction.

The tableau before them spun again as Captain Solo executed a banking turn, then steered the _Falcon_ toward a gaping hole in the floor of the wide canyon. Only then did it dawn on Leia what he had in mind. Nodding her head, she could see the logic now. He was a smuggler, after all—he was going to ground like a hunted Chenik in hopes the Imperials would think them destroyed along with the hapless squad of TIE fighters that had followed him into the lethal chaos of the asteroid field.

_It could work._

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” the princess said in a soft tone, her unease refusing to go away despite the promise of secluded shelter.

“Yeah, me too,” Han echoed her sentiment, some of his usual bravado dampened by the failure of the hyperdrive, his pride and joy, after clearing the atmosphere of Hoth.

_The humbling suits him. He could do with a bit more of it before I’m satisfied._

Within minutes, Han brought the ship to a stop, setting the _Falcon_ down on the floor of the wide cave. They had traveled deep enough within the cavern that the entrance was little more than a pinprick of light, and the exterior floodlights of the ship cast strange shadows along the curving walls around them. Something about their smooth appearance niggled at the edge of Leia’s consciousness, but she was no geologist. Too grateful for the refuge to worry further, Leia let out a sigh and settled back into her seat. “What do you have planned for your next trick?”

“She calls that a trick,” Solo mumbled to his copilot.

«I’d call that a miracle,» Chewie responded.

Over time and with great effort, Leia’s understanding of Shyriiwook had improved to the point that a vindicated smile touched her lips now; she could always count on the Wookiee to help take Han’s ego down a notch into the tolerable range.

Han spared an acerbic glance for both of them. “Well, you can all thank me later. Right now we’ve got a lot of work to do, and this is the closest we’re gonna get to a docking bay for repairs.”

“How long do you think we can stay in here?” Unsettling thoughts arose as she watched them go through the procedures of shutting down the engines. Was he intending only a few hours or days, or longer? What if they couldn’t repair the damage?

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Han said. “Maybe they’ll get tired and go home if we don’t come out to play.”

“Sir,” Threepio interjected, “the sensors indicate that there is an atmosphere inside this cave. It is not breathable, but there is gravity and air pressure.”

They all gave the droid mystified looks.

Glancing back out at the cavern, Han shrugged one shoulder. “Just as well. We might need to go out there for repairs.”

“It doesn’t make sense.…” Leia wondered aloud, her eyes fixed unseeing at the spot where the _Falcon_ ’s floodlights ended in the darkness outside. Something didn’t feel right; some intuition told her the Imperials wouldn’t give up so easily.

“What doesn’t make sense?” Solo prompted, looking at her as he climbed out of his seat.

Blinking back to the present, she shifted her gaze up to meet his. “Why all this effort for one ship? This old freighter isn’t exactly the best catch of the day. Why divert three Star Destroyers and Vader’s flagship?”

Forehead creased in concentration, as though his thoughts had just become attuned with her own, Han paused as he loomed over her. “Yeah, that’s a good question.”

Chewbacca swiveled his seat and offered the sort of insight Leia often found valuable if not a bit opaque. «Perhaps it’s not just the ship they’re after.»

Everyone looked to the Wookiee, taking a second to let the words sink in.

“What are you talking about, you big dust mop?” Han chided.

«I mean, what if they believe someone in particular is aboard this ship?»

Han’s hazel eyes flicked back to Leia and she could almost read his thoughts. Self-conscious, she looked away, anywhere but at him; while his gaze was not accusing, she nonetheless felt guilty of being the reason for the Imperial hounding. If what Chewbacca said was true, their roles had reversed and now she was the one endangering them all by just being there. “They won’t give up,” she said in a small voice, finishing the notion.

“Oh dear!” Threepio fretted from the communications station behind Chewie.

“Hey, there’s no way they’d know you’re on my ship,” Han attempted to lighten the mood. “You were scheduled to leave on a transport, remember? Besides, they’ve lost too many pilots in these asteroids already. It’ll get too costly at this rate.”

Leia tipped her head to give him a dissatisfied frown, knowing him too well to assume he believed half of what he’d just uttered. “Since when has the Empire cared about cost?”

Han waved her off. “They won’t find us. We’re safe for now. You still remember how to use a fuser?”

Needing a moment to shift mental gears, Leia nodded in mute admission. As if she would ever forget—or forgive—that little lesson a year ago while they were setting up a new base back on Serricci, when he’d taught her a new skill and she’d also learned that the man was not afraid of embarrassing her for his own amusement. The memory of unwittingly sporting his large greasy handprint on her ass for the entire base to see only served to reignite her anger, momentarily forgotten in the sudden calm.

“Good. Stay here and help Chewie. First thing we need to do is fix the shield controls.” He pointed to the panel of lights and switches beside the copilot’s station. “I’ll go back and reroute them manually so they stop shorting out.” With that, he left the cockpit.

Chewbacca stood and stepped around behind his seat to better access the controls in question. «Princess, do you understand the mechanics of the shield systems?»

Leia sighed with the realization of how little she would be able to contribute. Knowing how to use instruments and systems while in flight was one thing; understanding how they worked was something entirely different. “No, not really. Just point me where you want me to go and tell me what to do.”

“Your Highness,” See-Threepio spoke up. “I will be more than happy to download and explain the schematics of a typical shielding system—although I’ve no doubt that my friend Artoo-Detoo could do a better job if he were here.”

Rising to her feet, she waved a hand in hopes of cutting off any more. “Another time, Threepio.”

“Of course, Your Highness, it would be my pleasure. Please feel free to ask me at your convenience.”

That made Leia roll her eyes as she turned away.

_I think I’d rather be interrogated again._

Stripping off her thermal gloves, she tossed them into her seat and stepped up beside Chewbacca to look at the field of lights and toggles decorating the curved starboard wall of the cockpit.

Not having the first clue where to start, she waited as Chewbacca dug out hydrospanners from a pocket in the back of his chair and handed them to her. «Solo trusts you to help with repairs. That’s good enough for me.»

“He does?” Surprised, she wasn’t sure which bewildered her more, Han’s best friend telling her this news, or the very concept of Captain Solo trusting his ship to anyone other than Chewie.

«He trusts you a great deal.»

Too late she realized that Chewie was analyzing her reaction and her cheeks grew warm.

«I like you, Princess. You are a good match for Solo.»

Experiencing a spasm of doubt about her translating skills, Leia wondered if she’d heard him wrong. Whatever had triggered this unanticipated channel of communication between them was beyond her, but she couldn’t afford to go there, not about Han, not now. Still, Chewbacca was a friend and deserved a response. “I like you, too, Chewie…. I’ll miss you.”

The Wookiee nodded, offering his version of a gentle smile; his bared fangs were a sight that might have frightened most beings who didn’t know him. «We have common goals.»

Not bothering to explain his mystifying comment any further, he changed the subject by reaching up to pop off the protective paneling from the starboard cockpit wall, exposing the mysteries of the _Falcon_ ’s defense systems. Setting the paneling to the side, he folded out some sort of apparatus from within the jumble of wires. «Please grip this with the hydrospanners, turn it to the right, and hold it there until I tell you to let it go.»

“Okay.” She stepped up, fitted the tool around the part until it was snug, and then gave it the requested twist. Not only did she meet resistance, but she had to hold it in place to keep it from rotating back. No wonder this required two sets of hands. Chewie moved closer, reaching his long arms around her to begin working with the wiring.

The hatch of the cockpit slid open once more and Han moved past them to begin flipping switches on the forward dash. “I’m going to shut down everything but the emergency power systems.” As a result, the lighting in the cockpit dimmed to just the emergency panel lights and colored control indicators.

Chewie’s revelation moments earlier still threatened to throw off her concentration, but Leia didn’t dare take her eyes away from what they were doing. _Ignore him. You’ve got a lot more to worry about right now than wondering what motivates Han Solo._

At the captain’s announcement, Threepio turned around within the cramped confines of the cabin to face him. “Sir, I’m almost afraid to ask, but…does that include shutting me down, too?”

Chewie barked, «Yes.»

“No,” Han countered, shaking his head, his tone condescending, “I need you to talk to the _Falcon_ , find out what’s wrong with the hyperdrive.”

Without warning, the entire ship lurched, nearly causing everything not strapped down to go flying across the cramped cockpit. The only thing that kept Leia from losing her balance was her grip on the clamped hydrospanners and a supportive hand from the Wookiee behind her, even as he howled in alarm. When the _Falcon_ settled, they all cast a renewed look of alarm out the canopy into the dark cave beyond.

Threepio exhibited his usual grasp of the obvious. “Sir, it’s quite possible this asteroid is not entirely stable.”

“Not entirely stable? I’m glad you’re here to tell us these things,” Han said with sarcasm so thick even the clueless protocol droid could detect it, and jerked a thumb toward the rear of the ship in annoyance. “Chewie, take the professor in the back and plug him into the hyperdrive.”

«My pleasure.»

“Oh!” Threepio protested as he was pulled out of the cockpit by the Wookiee. “Sometimes I just don’t understand human behavior. After all, I’m only trying to do my job in the most—” The rest of his indignant objection was cut off as the hatch slid closed after them.

Still standing with her back to Solo, holding the whatever-it-was in place, Leia debated what to do. Chewie hadn’t told her to let go yet. The problem was resolved a moment later as the ship lurched again, this time with enough violence that the hydrospanners slipped and she was tossed backwards. Rather than crashing against the navcomp console, she found herself landing in the far more comfortable lap of Han as they fell into the navigator’s chair together. The ship continued to rattle and his strong arms wrapped around her to form a secure circle of protection.

A few more seconds passed before Leia became conscious of the fact that Han had done more than just prevent serious bruising or outright injury. She glanced down to find his hands clasped around her midriff, his arms tightening. A wave of memories of another time when he’d held her this way, a romantic evening of dancing and dizzying emotions while on Ord Mantell, surged past her mental floodgates. Leaning forward, she tried to break free of his hold. “Let go.”

“Sshhh!” A distant tremor rumbled around the _Falcon_ and Han held up a finger to silence her protest.

She stopped struggling and tried to join him in worrying about what was happening outside, but her mind refused to cooperate. Distress crept into her voice. “Let go, please!”

“Don’t get excited,” he said in exasperation.

_Why does he insist on making everything sexual?!_

“Captain, being held by you isn’t quite enough to get me excited,” she sniped.

“Sorry, Sweetheart.” In a rare display of deliberate physicality, Solo moved his hands up her sides to grip beneath her armpits, then hoisted her up off his lap and planted her on the deck with a solid thump.

Leia swung around, incensed by the manhandling, but was derailed by his wicked grin.

“We haven’t got time for anything else,” he finished with a sensual purr before exiting the cockpit.

Denied her chance to formulate a response, Leia spun away. She’d tried to bluff indifference and he’d seen right through her—and worse yet, he’d called her on it. “Right,” she mouthed in disgust, nodding her head as if any of this made sense anymore. She was out of her element and out of her depth with him, and he knew it. Pure aggravation made her punch an innocent spot of cockpit paneling, but it was a poor substitute and it hurt.

_This day just keeps getting better and better._


	3. Chapter 3

The next few hours were a steady exercise in multitasking for Han as he roamed from repair to repair, either completing them himself or monitoring those done by his ad hoc crew. Since the main toolbox and all its contents were scattered at the bottom of the claustrophobic maintenance pit, he and Chewie had managed to scrounge up enough spare tools stashed elsewhere aboard the ship to do makeshift repairs. All things considered, they were making progress. Despite the little royal diversion in the cockpit earlier, the shield systems were back online and he felt confident that the hyperdrive was as well; of course, there was no way to test it until the moment of truth, but everything indicated it was fixed.

In no hurry to leave their hiding spot, he’d called a break a short time ago so they could eat and regroup their energies. However, what had started as a good mood, as he’d surreptitiously watched the princess eat, had fizzled into irritation at her choice of conversation topics. She’d started by bringing up concern for Luke and while he shared her worry about their friend, a dark thought from a shadowy corner of Han’s mind whispered that she was taking another jab at him. Then she’d revived speculation as to why the Empire was pouring so much manpower into chasing down one ship—“this wired-together junk pile” was absolutely another jab at him—when half the Alliance was routed and in disorder. To make matters worse, a steady thumping and rumbling had begun to vibrate through the ship, too rhythmic to be natural on a solid rock of this size. It was enough to prove her point and the general consensus was that the Imperials were stepping up their hunt, narrowing their search, and now bombarding the massive asteroid in an attempt to flush their prey out. Those facts pretty much guaranteed Leia would remain in an unpleasant disposition and it was beginning to feel contagious.

Hands on hips, standing in the middle of the main hold as he paused in his work, Han chewed the inside of a cheek. His ship was still in desperate need of attention and yet his mind kept circling back to Leia as if she were on his check-off list of things he needed to fix. Surely all she needed was a good reminder of when they’d been on much friendlier terms—a good kiss to restart the passion he’d discovered weeks ago while on Ord Mantell.

_But that’s the trick, isn’t it? Getting her into that mood sort of requires her already being prone to it._

There was a way to short-circuit her defensive systems—there had to be—but he’d yet to find a reliable method that didn’t usually backfire. What was worse, from the looks of things, he’d maybe done irreparable damage and there was precious little time left to set things right. Because he still intended to depart as soon as she was back with the Rebel fleet, any sort of regretful goodbye or even a sign that she wanted him to come back would have to start emerging pretty damned quick.

So far he’d done a fine job of botching things up between them, forfeiting much of the ground he’d gained over the past year. News of the astronomical bounty on his head, along with the concurrent events on Ord Mantell, had forced his decision to stop courting and start pushing Leia away before either of them could become any more involved, and yet he couldn’t seem to help himself. At first, he’d tried to give her up by rejecting her tentative invitation for more. Then he’d changed his mind again and tried to pull her back while on Hoth, desperate to revive what they’d started while on her mission to the space station. But it was clear now that all he’d managed to do was sabotage both efforts.

To be honest, he didn’t even know what he was trying to do anymore. There was no question that he wanted to seduce her. Convince her. Love her. But there was a nagging sense of conscience about what would probably happen afterward. He found himself worrying about leaving the princess heartbroken; it was a concern that had never even occurred to him in the past and yet it was enough to make him hesitate with Leia. Maybe it was because he was loath to add more pain to her life, or that he cared what she thought of him even in his absence. Maybe he just respected her too much. He was probably guilty of all the above and yet he still sought her affection, as if he needed confirmation that it hadn’t been a fluke that night when she’d welcomed his advances. For the past fifteen months, he’d received conflicting messages from her, but if he could be sure that she felt the same despite his past and his future…well, at least then there would be a sliver of hope, something to look forward to if he survived Jabba’s wrath and returned.

Things weren’t looking very promising at the moment, however. Responding only in clipped and impersonal answers, the princess had immersed herself in the repairs he’d assigned to her in the circuitry bay adjacent to the main hold. The tiny room was nothing more than a corner with two entrances, but it was the central nervous system for the entire ship. Whenever passing by, he couldn’t resist looking in to check on her, but she refused to pay him any attention. Even the irregular blue flash from her macro-fuser felt angry.

_Buddy, you really touched a nerve this time, didn’t you?_

Standing in front of the _Falcon’_ s main engineering station in the central hold, Threepio attempted to communicate with the freighter’s unorthodox computer systems with a whistling and beeping language not unlike an astrotech droid, but the series of beeps and whistles he got in response appeared to flummox the protocol droid. “Oh, where is Artoo when I need him?” he lamented.

Irritated by the interruption of his thoughts, Han resumed work and stepped next to the droid to retrieve a coil of new wire from a supply case.

“Sir, I don’t know where your ship learned to communicate, but it has the most peculiar dialect. I believe, sir, it says that the power coupling on the negative axis has been polarized. I’m afraid you’ll have to replace it.”

Han stopped, shot the obnoxious interpreter a dirty look, and then stooped to run a quick test by routing power through the circuit in question. Annoyed to have the droid point out something so obvious that he’d somehow overlooked, he snapped, “Well, of course I’ll have to replace it.”

Muttering about the relative worth of droids, Han walked back to stand under the open hatch of the overhead compartment where Chewie was replacing burned out wiring. “Here!”

Chewbacca’s shaggy head appeared in the square hatch, and Han passed up the spare wire. “And Chewie,” he cast a quick glance to see if Threepio was still watching him then added in a more subdued voice, “I think we’d better replace the negative power coupling.”

«Good idea.»

Irked by the confirmation, Han gave a moody _hrmmph_. Shaking his head, he found himself wandering back toward the circuitry bay and reasoned that it was time to check in on the princess again. He arrived just as she finished up welding a series of ion flow valves back into place. After hanging her set of protective goggles on a convenient makeshift hook, she began snapping closed the various safety latches. However, the main handle to reengage the system only turned halfway before jamming. There followed a battle of wills, princess versus _Millennium Falcon_ , with neither budging.

Han was tempted to simply watch the epic struggle but then recognized his chance to reopen communications. He moved up behind her, intending to reach around and combine their strength to the task, but the instant they touched, she pushed back against him with her entire body, nearly throwing him into the circuitry behind them. Surprised by the hostility, and the angry glare she added for good measure, he held his hands up and away as if he’d been burned. “Hey, Your Worship, I’m only trying to help!”

Returning her attention to the recalcitrant lever, Leia also seemed to redirect her anger toward the frozen handle—or most of it, anyway. “Would you _please_ stop calling me that?”

Han swore there was a new tone in her voice—amnesty—but wasn’t sure he’d identified it properly. “Sure, Leia.” Although he’d rarely used her proper name lately, he’d always liked the way it rolled on his tongue like a fine wine.

Shaking her head, she gave the unmovable lever another try. “You make it so difficult sometimes.”

Not sure now if she was more frustrated with him or his ship, but happy to let her take it out on the _Falcon_ if it meant she kept talking like this, he nodded in agreement; it was a worthy sacrifice. “I do, I really do. You could be a little nicer, though,” he prodded, taking the risk and watching her reaction. “Come on, admit it. Sometimes you think I’m all right.”

Leia gave the handle one last frustrated twist and was rewarded by whacking a knuckle on the curved guard when her grip slipped. With a wince, she let go and sucked on the injured finger to keep it from bleeding. “Occasionally.… Maybe….”

Whether it was the conciliation in her words or just the sight of her lips wrapped around her finger, Han couldn’t be sure, but this was the opportunity he’d been waiting for and he pounced. Catching her injured hand in his own, he began to apply both a gentle massage and his best look of deep concern.

The sudden change in his tactics made Leia back away, but she ran out of room in the corner of the tiny alcove. “When you aren’t acting like a scoundrel,” she qualified, her chin lifting at a defiant and regal tilt to indicate that’s exactly what he was doing at the moment.

“‘ _Scoundrel_ ’?” he echoed in disbelief. It sounded so starry-eyed, like something out of a trashy romance novel. He’d never pegged Leia as the dreamy type but, then again, he barely knew this side of her. So far, he liked what he was finding. Amused and encouraged, his voice dropped to an intimate rumble as he smiled. “‘Scoundrel’? I like the sound of that.”

Too late she seemed to realize her remark had the opposite effect of its intended purpose and she made a halfhearted attempt to retrieve her hand. “Stop that.” There was a new thread of emotion in her voice, something more vulnerable and unsure.

“Stop what?”

Flushed and confused, she glanced down to watch as his fingers worked into her palm. He could sense her conflict as her hand opened up and relaxed under his caress, even as she made one last weak effort to pull it away. “Stop _that_. My hands are dirty.”

“My hands are dirty, too. What are you afraid of?”

“‘ _Afraid_ ’?”

For the first time, she met his eyes without wavering, repeating the word as if he’d accused her of something far worse, and Han realized he’d just found the gap in her armor. There were few things that frightened Leia Organa. He’d had the fortune—or, to be more accurate, the misfortune—of witnessing them over the past fifteen months. Intimacy with anyone, but particularly with him, often seemed to fall into that tiny category, and he supposed she had some reason to be wary in his case. And yet the very mention of this fact seemed to summon the streak of courage within her that he’d always admired. With that one word, their encounter had turned into a challenge, a dare, and it was something he knew she was incapable of resisting.

As her entire forearm came to rest against his chest, thoughts of her enthusiastic response to his embrace that night on Ord Mantell compelled him to press on. “You’re trembling.”

“I’m not trembling.” Her denial didn’t negate the fact that her tone had dropped to a tremulous, intimate intensity that matched his, or that she seemed incapable of looking away.

“You like me because I’m a scoundrel. There aren’t enough scoundrels in your life.”

Leia shook her head with such a lack of conviction that he would have laughed if his own mood hadn’t suddenly grown so deadly serious. “I happen to like nice men,” she countered in a last-ditch attempt to prevent complete capitulation but her eager whisper foiled the effect.

At last in full agreement with her, he nodded. “I’m nice men.”

“No, you’re not. You’re—”

Her last protest died as their lips met in a slow, hot, undeniable kiss that melted away any further resistance. She tasted so sweet, the hint of fruit from her snack earlier adding an exotic flavor to the growing collection of kisses from her already burned into his memory. His hands dropped to her sides, pulling her closer. He was rewarded when the hand still pressed against his chest shifted and moved up to his neck, her fingers gliding into his hair to hold him there. Intense arousal coursed through him at her encouraging touch, like he’d just been hot-wired into the power grid surrounding them. She must have felt it, too, because her mouth moved against his with sudden hunger, as if starved after weeks of fasting, and there was a mutual gasp for air.

A familiar and unwelcome whir of servomotors behind Han broke into his awareness as Threepio appeared in the doorway of the circuitry bay, his cultured voice excited and oblivious to what he was interrupting. “Sir! Sir! I’ve isolated the reverse power flux coupling.”

Han opened his eyes as he felt Leia break away, her expression indecipherable. The mood utterly wrecked, he pivoted to face the tactless protocol droid, crowding him back out of the entrance. “Thank you! Thank you very much.”

“Oh, you’re perfectly welcome, sir.”

Rotating back with every intention of picking up where they’d left off, Han’s banked excitement sputtered out upon discovering he was alone; Leia had slipped out the other exit, running away just like the last time. For a moment, he considered chasing after her, convinced this was his last chance to make things right between them, but then he sighed and let his shoulders drop. It was enough to make a guy wonder what the hell was wrong with him if he kept having that effect on her.

Muttering dire threats for useless droids, Han tried to calm his pounding heart and return his attention to the problem lever. He gave the handle an unenthusiastic crank only to have it lock up just as it had for the princess.

_Will nothing on this damned ship cooperate with me anymore?!_

“Chewie! Get down here and give me a hand.”

«My wife would disapprove of me doing that sort of handiwork.»

Scowling over his shoulder, Han realized too late that the Wookiee had an upside-down but otherwise clear view into the alcove and must have watched their little interlude in voyeuristic enjoyment. “Very funny. Your wife would disapprove of half the things you do if she ever found out. Just get down here and get this blasted thing back online. It’s jammed.”

Disgusted with his recent luck, Han abandoned the lever and stalked back into the main hold to tackle the next failure on his agenda. It was going to be a long day.


	4. Chapter 4

Leia’s hurried walk slowed to a more respectable pace by the time she entered the short passageway that led to the cockpit. Still short of breath, she punched the hatch plate and waited for the door to slide closed behind before falling back against its unyielding surface.

“Get a grip,” she hissed aloud. Feeling as though she’d been exposed too long to binary suns at midday, she took a series of deep breaths in an attempt to calm her pulse and mind. She pressed her open palms against the cool metal door and then lifted one to her forehead.

When Solo had led her on and then suddenly rebuffed her weeks ago, she’d gone into a new level of denial of her own feelings so recently uncovered, instead actively looking for reasons to hate him. His extended absence afterward while making supply runs to the Rebel base on Sullust had allowed her the time to nurture that negativity. She’d almost convinced herself that he’d taken advantage of her momentary weakness while on Ord Mantell; that he’d never intended anything serious. Since his arrival on Hoth days ago, he’d begun flipping back and forth, alternately teasing and rejecting her like it was some cruel sport, an exasperating dance that trampled on her emotions, stinging and infuriating at the same time. Now he’d reversed course once again, as if he could just pick up where they’d left off on Ord Mantell—as though none of the hurt had happened in between.

She wanted to curse Solo’s insolence for taking a kiss like that—as if he had the right—but discovered that her outrage was muddled, diluted.

_You didn’t exactly fight him off, did you?_

Unable to recall ever being so at odds with herself, so out of sync with her own thoughts and instincts, she found her response to his touch terrifying because the sudden rush of passion defeated every conscious effort to cast him off. Weeks ago when he’d said he was staying, those feelings had seemed more appropriate because their situation had seemed a little clearer. But now, with their lives in immediate danger once again and with him poised to leave with no promise or likelihood of returning, her feelings were unwelcome and against her best interests.

Anger swirled within the mix. Why did he keep dragging these things out of her if he had no intention of staying? Just to torture her? Just so he could brag that he’d bedded a leader of the Rebellion, the last princess of Alderaan?

Using a shoulder to push away from the hatch, Leia moved further into the cockpit to grip the headrest of the pilot’s chair in her hands, and dug her fingers into the cushioning.

_It was just a kiss. Just another kiss._

She’d kissed a few men in her time—a respectable number, all respectable men…. So what if none of them stirred her like Han did? So what if he was the only one to ever kiss _her_?

It had been over a year since the last time anyone besides Han had deliberately touched her for a purpose other than medical or physical assistance. Although raised in a demonstrative family and culture in which affection was shared and encouraged, her life since the horrors of the _Death Star_ had become devoid of that simple pleasure. Sometimes, she gave in to the instinct to hug or give an innocent kiss to Luke, but he never initiated the contact, perhaps out of shyness or propriety. No—it was as if people preferred to keep their distance. There were times when she suspected it was out of sympathy, or maybe they saw her as too unapproachable or highborn to be touched—a royal icon to be admired or pitied, but always from afar. Immersed as she was now within a community of like-minded people, the last thing she had expected was to feel so alone, so isolated, and it bothered her far more than she would ever admit.

The exception, of course, was Han. Never intimidated by her title or influence—his inventive nicknames were a ceaseless testament to that—the respect he did pay her instead seemed to stem from her individuality and abilities, bolstered by a surprising streak of chivalry. He certainly had ulterior motives and the escalating physical contact from him over the past year had made his intentions clear. And despite all common sense, she had come to crave his attention and his occasional touch….

_Damn him!_

It’d be just like the Corellian to be skulking about in the greasiest service pit of his beloved ship at that very moment, basking in his ability to disrupt any semblance of coherent thought she might have. Was that his goal—to drive her insane?

As if to drill home the point, Leia knew she’d made a strategic error in heading to the cockpit rather than her makeshift cabin. This wasn’t the wisest choice of sanctuaries if her intention was to avoid Han and reassemble her composure.

Sighing, she glanced over the panels of darkened indicator lights and sensor screens. It felt odd to see the controls powered down, the cabin quiet and peaceful; she rarely spent any time in the cramped cockpit unless she felt her presence was required and could probably count on one hand the number of times she’d been up here alone. Moving forward, she stood in front of the console between the pilot and copilot seats.

First instincts aside, hiding was not a viable option and she needed to be proactive. Soon enough, she would have to face Solo again. The only thing she could control—barely—was how she treated this situation. Indignation had always served her well in the past but it wasn’t a legitimate response this time; being such an enthusiastic collaborator had nullified that defense. Feigning amnesia might work in holodramas but this was real life. Anger, on the other hand, seemed a viable option because she was, without a doubt, sick of being toyed with.

Of course, there was one other choice….

Leia’s dark eyes drifted to the cockpit canopy and the misty asteroid cave beyond as she recalled this latest kiss.

Was it any wonder, really, why she felt so conflicted? Her opinions of him were as varied and contradictory as the man himself: dependable yet unpredictable, selflessly loyal yet conceited to a fault, a near-genius at times but astoundingly obtuse at others. His reassuring and energizing presence at once seemed to threaten her unflagging dedication to the Alliance and the emotional barriers shielding her from further loss, and yet because he could make her laugh, seethe, and indeed tremble with little more than a wink, he was a handsome, thrilling, challenging, and irresistible puzzle. She was right to call him a scoundrel; who else would be flattered by such a moniker? But he was also correct in pointing out how his behavior was a reason why she liked him in the first place. Of all the things he was and could be, Han Solo was never boring. Whether she liked or loathed him—and that seemed to change from minute to minute—she seemed incapable of indifference toward him.

The unexpected swish of the cockpit hatch caused Leia to jump. She turned around, expecting to meet a pair of mocking hazel eyes but instead found herself looking into glowing photoreceptors. “What, Threepio?” she snapped and then belatedly cringed.

_So much for etiquette, Organa._

The droid shuffled in. “Oh, there you are, Your Highness. When I could not locate you, I inquired of Captain Solo as to your whereabouts, and he suggested looking here. I must say that he was quite rude. Of course, I have come to expect a certain lack of refinement when dealing with Captain Solo, but I do believe he has become notably worse. I feel it is my duty to inform you that he has really gone too far. He has threatened to spot-weld me to the _Millennium Falcon_ ’s outer hull in an attempt to increase its shielding.”

Unable to do little more than stare at the pompous droid throughout his tirade, Leia clapped a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from laughing out loud.

Apparently nonplussed by her reaction, Threepio voiced his concern. “With all due respect, Your Highness, I do not find this present state of affairs in the least bit humorous. He seemed quite serious and I do believe Chewbacca would assist!”

Unable to dislodge the mental image from her mind, Leia forced herself to respond. “What would you suggest I do?”

His positronic brain seemed ill-prepared for such a response, let alone solving the dilemma. The golden droid uttered an amazing imitation of a human stammer and then waved a metallic arm in a gesture of frustration, servomotors whirring in the quiet cockpit. “Might I suggest that you speak with him concerning this matter? After all, I am a very valuable and necessary companion, as I am sure you are aware. It isn’t a fault in my programming if Captain Solo is unable to realize this. Mistress Leia, I have no doubt that you can make him see reason. If only he would appreciate my efforts to help with repairs.”

_Whatever gave him the impression I can make Han Solo do anything?_

Nodding to reassure the droid, although she could just imagine Han’s reaction if she were to broach the subject of Threepio’s value any time soon, she switched topics. “What did you want to see me about?”

“Oh yes, I quite forgot! Captain Solo has sent me to inform you that he has succeeded in reengaging the ion flow valve you were repairing.”

“I see.” Wondering if that was a gentle dig from Han—a reminder that they still had a lot of work to do—or a dismissal from further duties, she wasn’t pleased with either conclusion. “Was that all?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The droid paused, then continued: “Perhaps I should return to my attempts to communicate with this ship’s computer. I must say, it is most obtuse.” With that final observation, Threepio turned and disappeared back through the hatch, leaving Leia alone once again.

_Spot-welded to the outer hull?_

Leia chewed her bottom lip, unable to resist the hint of a smile, and reconsidered their absurd situation. Why was Han so upset over the interruption? What had he hoped to achieve if he was only going to leave as soon as they rejoined the fleet at the rendezvous point?

_Maybe he’s the one more afraid of not getting that goodbye kiss._

Once more lost in contemplation, Leia ran a finger along a leather seam of the seat beside her. The sense of duty her father had drilled into her since childhood demanded she return to assisting with repairs without further delay, and Han did need all the help he could get. A frivolous excuse like brooding over an uninvited kiss was not a legitimate reason to shirk her responsibility as a passenger-cum-crew member. The only problem was that she didn’t _feel_ like going back yet.

In all honesty, she didn’t know what she felt anymore, other than a sharp steady ache in the vicinity of her heart. A part of her wanted to run away—away from him, away _with_ him, away from everyone who demanded something from her but never seemed to offer anything in return. Never one to avoid responsibility, she found this sudden urge to duck out now very strange. Nothing made sense anymore.

Perturbed, she flopped into Chewbacca’s oversized seat and didn’t bother to straighten her poor posture. Instead she slumped a bit further before propping an elbow on the chair’s armrest and resting a temple on her fist as she stared at the empty pilot’s position.

_So what if we kissed again? Nothing else has changed._

Maybe it was easy for him to switch back and forth on a whim but it was tearing her apart.

As long as she’d known Han, she’d endured his teasing, cursed his bluntness, tolerated his irreverence, enjoyed his humor, appreciated his friendship, admired his bravery, and in general taken his presence for granted. It was the truth whenever she declared he was a major asset to the Alliance—his piloting skills were unmatched, his instinctive assumption of authority was sound, and his unconventional manner of problem solving often revealed a deft ability to assess every situation with speed and decisiveness. All of those qualities were attributes of a natural leader, and the fact that the troops respected and accepted him despite his lack of rank was confirmation of it.

But the truth didn’t end there and he clearly knew it. The reality was she’d grown to need him every bit as much as did the Rebellion, and although she knew deep down that his leaving was inevitable now, she could no longer imagine life without him. He’d provided a higher ground during the flood of tragedy after Alderaan—rocky ground, sometimes tempest-swept, yet solid and priceless. What would a day be like without regular doses of his attractive and maddening smile, without watching him swagger from one Rebel base to the next? What would it be like to no longer hear his voice, no longer feel it resonate through her entire body, leaving her senses humming and her emotions jangled?

A new sound invaded Leia’s awareness, one unlike the gentle hum of the ship’s support systems, the erratic noise of the crew making repairs in back, and the concussive thumping of the Imperial bombardment. Acting on instinct, she glanced up toward the cockpit canopy, wondering if she’d imagined a faint scraping sound coming from outside. There seemed to be a shift in the shadows created by the exterior floodlights, then suddenly, much closer, a flurry of motion that brushed past the viewport. Frowning, she sat upright and peered deeper into the foggy gloom, curiosity overriding her well-developed sense of caution.

Without further warning, something slick and disgusting splattered against the canopy pane and Leia jerked back in her seat with a start. Had something fallen from the ceiling of the cave? Baffled, she eased forward and stood to get a closer look, squinting up at the foreign object. Suddenly, two appendages appeared with large yellow eyes that blinked and then peered back at her. With a startled shriek, Leia stumbled backward, spun away, and almost smacked into the closed hatch. Slapping blindly at the palm plate, she spared a last glance back to see the creature, whatever it was, wriggling across her view and leaving a trail of slime on the transparasteel.

She’d seen enough. When the hatch slid open, Leia tore through the short corridor and into the main hold, where she skidded to a halt in the middle of the room, interrupting yet another debate between man and droid.

“There’s something out there!”

Crouched over some bit of exposed circuitry, both Han and Chewbacca paused and the blue arc of the macro-fuser sputtered to a stop as they looked up at her. Han raised a hand to shove his protective goggles up onto his forehead, then stared at her as if she’d blown a fuse.

_One word about that damned kiss and I’ll kill him with his own blaster. I swear I will._

But Han’s expression remained all business. “Where?”

“Outside, in the cave.”

As if to prove her point, there followed a loud banging against the outer hull that caused both smugglers to straighten up and rip off their goggles.

«She’s right, there is something out there.»

Threepio waved his golden arms in alarm. “There it is. Listen! Listen!”

Having heard enough, Han marched toward the bank of rebreathers hanging near the boarding ramp. “I’m going out there,” he announced, his voice determined, as though he’d run out of patience with all the delays and troubles plaguing them.

“Are you crazy?!” She had no idea what was waiting out there, but leaving the relative safety of the ship seemed the epitome of foolishness. What did he think he was going to do—duel with whatever creature that was?

“I just got this bucket back together. I’m not going to let something tear it apart.”

Torn between her apprehension of the unknown and concern that he might need her help, she gave in. “Oh, then I’m going with you!” Snagging another breathing mask, she rushed to strap it on over her face as she strode after him, with Chewbacca following behind.

«I guess that means I have to go, too.»

The atmosphere was warm and humid against her exposed skin, not at all what she was expecting, as the ramp dropped and came to a rest on the cave floor. Blaster already drawn from the low-slung holster on his thigh, Han gripped a ramp strut with his free hand and then leaned out to tap the ground with a single foot, testing the surface hidden in mist. He took a cautious first step, then another.

Working up her own nerve, Leia followed suit, moving out onto the spongy surface. “This ground sure feels strange. It doesn’t feel like rock.”

“There’s an awful lot of moisture in here,” Han added. His voice was muffled by the rebreather but his puzzlement rang clear.

“I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Yeah.”

As Han began moving away, stepping around to inspect the _Falcon_ in one direction and the Wookiee headed the other way, Leia trailed behind Han and peered out into the murky gloom beyond the reach of the freighter’s floodlights, watching his back. Something didn’t feel right about this, not at all. She still wasn’t sure how it was even possible they could be walking around like this without an envirosuit, let alone what could be living here in what they’d assumed to be a barren rock.

A sudden scurrying sound made Leia spin around.

“Watch out!” Quick as lightning, Han drew a bead with his blaster and fired. His aim was true and the creature cried out as it fell from the underside of the _Falcon_ ’s tail section. “It’s all right, it’s all right.” He stepped closer and nudged the crumpled body with his booted toe, then glanced back to the ship. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Mynock. Chewie, check the rest of the ship, make sure there are no more attached…chewing on the power cables.”

“Mynocks?” Arms wrapped around her chest as she stared down at the dead creature, Leia shuddered; she’d never heard of them. As if they’d needed one more complication. Looking back up toward the inky black of the ceiling above, she wondered if a hint of movement was just her imagination.

“Go on inside,” Han said to her. “We’ll clean them off if there are any more.”

Secretly relieved to be dismissed, Leia turned, only to walk into a flurry of fluttering leathery wings that swooped past her close enough to graze her head. A basic fear of it tangling in her hair made Leia shriek and she flung her arms up over her head. Abandoning poise, she dashed back toward the ramp.

A moment later, Chewbacca fired at one of the flying creatures with the bowcaster he’d brought along, but the bolt went wide and disappeared into the darkness beyond. An instant later, the cavern rumbled with a little earthquake.

Han swung around to stare out into the blackness, his eyes betraying his new concern. “Weird….”

From the relative safety below the hull of the ship, Leia stopped to watch as Han leveled his blaster once again, this time at the cave floor, and fired.

The ground buckled beneath their feet as the entire cavern began to roil around them strong enough to make them stagger. Too late in grabbing onto the ship for support, Leia pitched backward and would have fallen if Han hadn’t arrived in time to catch her and tip her forward. She latched onto the closest ramp strut and hugged tight as the entire cave seemed to heave up in seismic complaint. Whatever reaction Han had initiated showed no signs of stopping this time and he ran past her and up the ramp. Chewbacca leapt onto the ramp a moment later as it began to rise with them still on it.

“All right, Chewie, let’s get out of here!” Han yelled, already powering up all the ship’s flight systems from the engineering station in the main hold. The whine of the ship reawakening filled the air but didn’t mask the rumbling outside or the clatter of unsecured items inside.

Leia reeled toward him as the deck below her feet lurched again. “The Empire is still out there! I don’t think it’s wise to—!”

“No time to discuss this in committee!” Han cut her off, practically dancing in his effort to keep on his feet as he raced past her toward the cockpit.

Temper reignited, Leia did her best to follow him as the ship rocked. “I am not a _committee_!” she yelled after him before a particularly strong jolt sent her crashing against the padded bulkhead. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself off it and tottered in his wake. “I am _not_ a committee.”

Staggering through the cockpit hatchway, she was just in time to watch as Han fired up the engines. “You can’t make the jump to light-speed in this asteroid field,” she pointed out, as if any of them needed the reminder.

“Sit down, Sweetheart. We’re taking off!”

Another violent shock sent her toppling into the navigator seat with opportune timing as Han grasped the controls and engaged the repulsors, and the _Falcon_ rose off the cave floor. As the ship stabilized, he yanked back on the throttle and they rocketed forward toward the pinpoint of light in the distance.

Chewbacca stabbed an urgent, hairy finger toward what had been a circle of light ahead, the entrance to the cavern—it wasn’t a circle so much anymore as a horizontal oval. «It’s closing!»

Threepio cried out, “Look!”

“I see it, I see it.” Han strained to urge more speed from his aged ship.

“We’re doomed!” the droid wailed.

Horrified, Leia stared as they sped toward the rows of jagged white stalagmites and stalactites lining the entrance that now threatened to block their exit.

“The cave is collapsing!” she blurted out, unable to make any other kind of sense out of what she was witnessing.

“This is no cave.” Han’s voice was grim.

“What?!”

Then Leia’s mouth snapped shut in subconscious mimicry, realizing too late that what had appeared as white rocks were an incontestable reminder that they weren’t even close to the top of the food chain.

_I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this is happening._

Leia slammed her eyes shut and waited for the end.


	5. Chapter 5

General Rieekan had once told Leia that war amounted to countless days of mindless boredom interrupted by random minutes of sheer terror. Today she was discovering the flaw in that adage because she was pretty sure all those minutes were piling up into one long horrific day.

The only possible upside to the day’s disaster so far was that terror tended to override everything else. Their hasty exit from whatever had nearly devoured them in the cave of that asteroid, followed by their reemergence into the hazards of the asteroid field, and now their renewed flight from the awaiting Imperial warships beyond had been more than enough to shove any other emotional turmoil to a remote corner of her mind. Now to top off an already-appalling day, the hyperdrive had failed again, leaving them unable to escape the Imperial battle fleet.

But Han seemed to have performed the impossible, a sleight of hand that disappeared them in the blink of an eye in the middle of a swarm of angry warships. Attached like a tiny parasite to the blind side of the bridge of one of the massive Star Destroyers, the _Millennium Falcon_ was powered down and hidden in nothing resembling a secluded or protected spot, yet the freighter must have blended into the surrounding superstructure. It was a brilliant and unanticipated gambit, hiding in plain sight in the heart of the fleet, but it felt a bit like having an executioner’s axe hovering unseen overhead, wondering when the blade would drop and how much it would hurt.

Still recovering from her initial shock, Leia was surprised by how fast the two smugglers shut down all but the environmental systems. They managed it with a speed she wouldn’t have believed possible.

See-Threepio, on the other hand, was less than impressed. “Captain Solo, this time you have gone too far!”

«Be quiet,» Chewie growled in a threatening tone.

“No, I will not be quiet, Chewbacca! Why doesn’t anyone listen to me?”

Ignoring the protesting droid, Han waved a finger at the movement of ships around them, talking with his copilot. “The fleet is beginning to break up. Go back and stand by the manual release for the landing claw.”

«Give me two minutes.» Chewie rose from his seat and left the cockpit.

“I really don’t see how that’s going to help,” Threepio prattled on. “Surrender is a perfectly acceptable alternative in extreme circumstances.”

The moment capitulation was mentioned, Leia rolled her eyes. Obviously on the same wavelength, Han glanced over his shoulder at her and made an ushering gesture she translated to mean _Shut him up before he takes a long walk out a short airlock_.

“The Empire may be gracious enough—” The droid’s conciliatory speech died midsentence as Leia reached over to hit his kill switch.

“Thank you,” Han muttered in palpable relief.

Not bothering to hide her fascination in watching such a skilled smuggler in action, she rose out of her seat and leaned against the forward dashboard so she could have a clear view out the canopy and of him. “What did you have in mind for your next move?”

“Well, if they follow standard Imperial procedure, they’ll dump their garbage before they go to light-speed, then we just float away.” The last part Solo emphasized with a drifting motion of his hand.

Although nodding her head in approval, she was unable to keep herself from adding, “With the rest of the garbage. Then what?”

Although he rewarded her with a little scowl, he was too occupied with star maps on the forward console monitor to take her bait. “Then we’ve got to find a safe port somewhere around here…. Got any ideas?”

Grateful to be included in the planning this time, she leaned in closer to get a better look at the screen. “Where are we?”

“The Anoat system.”

Leia shook her head, trying to recall what she knew about the remote region that had bordered the Hoth system. High Command had ruled it out at the time as a potential location for a Rebel base. “The Anoat system. There’s not much there.”

“No.” Han paused and then straightened up as he fiddled with the controls to zoom in on one entry. “Well, wait. This is interesting. Lando.”

The sound of surprise in his voice piqued her curiosity and she risked openly studying his handsome features bathed in the blue light from the comp screen. “Lando system?”

“Lando’s not a system—he’s a man. Lando Calrissian.” As if feeling the need to elaborate, he went on with a shrug. “He’s a cardplayer. Gambler. Scoundrel. You’d like him.” He glanced back at her with a brief but triumphant smirk.

Flushing, Leia dropped her head. It was obvious that she would never live that down. “Thanks.”

Han read a bit more. “Bespin. It’s pretty far but I think we can make it.”

Curiosity returning, she squinted at the screen to read along with him. “A mining colony?”

“Yeah, a Tibanna gas mine. Lando conned somebody out of it.” He switched off the monitor and leaned back in his seat. “We go back a long way, Lando and me.”

It was a rare event when Han shared anything about his past, but something in his manner made Leia suspicious. He looked like he was trying to convince himself. “Can you trust him?”

His eyes met hers, his expression sheepish as he confessed, “No…but he has no love for the Empire, I can tell you that.”

Their quiet conversation was interrupted by new movement outside the cockpit as the massive Imperial ships began changing formation. Han double-checked his readouts and then stretched to look out the cockpit window before reaching to key open the intercom. “Here we go, Chewie. Stand by…. Detach!”

Still standing beside Solo, Leia watched as the fleet began to split up. After the nightmare of their escape from Hoth and then the asteroid field, she had trouble believing that a scheme so insane and simple could work to shake off their pursuers. For the first time daring to hope they might survive this mess, she remained silent, riveted, as one after another of the colossal star destroyers began to dump their refuse before winking out of view as they accelerated into hyperspace.

It wasn’t until the last Imperial ships disappeared that Leia realized she was holding her breath. She let it out and patted Han on the shoulder. “You do have your moments. Not many of them, but you do have them.” Telling herself it was only an act of gratitude, she bent down to press a spontaneous kiss to his cheek.

Not waiting for his reaction, she moved behind him to hide the jumble of emotions tumbling back. Only hours ago, she’d been determined to hate him for reneging on his promise to stay and taking advantage of her emotions in the meantime, and yet here she was now, rewarding his latest act of bravery. It was maddening to know he could so easily breach her defenses with a kiss, just as he’d asserted back on Hoth. Her annoyance was compounded by the fact that he really hadn’t changed at all—he was still the same provoking man she’d always known. No, this all seemed to be her own personal evolution. This was all her.

_I think there’s something fundamentally wrong with you, Leia._

Relaxing back into the navigator’s chair as all the tension and fear from the day flooded out of her body in a reverse rush, the abrupt drop in adrenaline left her weak and lightheaded. Only then did she notice her trembling. She held up a hand to stare at it in detached fascination before clasping her other hand over it in an attempt to still her nerves. For one crazy moment, she didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or just collapse in a heap on the deck.

_Maybe everyone’s right—maybe you need some time off. Somewhere remote and quiet. Maybe a spa resort or beach somewhere. Yes, that’s it._

With a little effort, she could imagine it now: a warm sun melting away the permafrost of Hoth, the gentle rhythmic roar of the surf providing the most soothing natural music to wash away the frantic voices and violence of the day, the cool wet sand squishing between her toes….

“You okay?”

When Leia looked up again, Han was twisted around in his seat and eying her as if she might fall over.

Embarrassed to be caught in such a state, she nodded. “I’m fine. It just takes me a while to recover from one of your rescues.”

That caused a guilty smile. “Yeah. I know what you mean.” Solo turned back to the controls to guide the ship out of the new debris field of abandoned garbage. “You know how to set in sublight coordinates?”

“Of course.”

“Of course,” he echoed, as if any other answer would be absurd. “Set a course for four-twenty-three.”

Glad to refocus her mind on something constructive, she swiveled her chair toward the navigation console and spared a moment to become familiar with its unique controls before entering in the data; while she’d looked at it on the odd occasion during other trips, she’d never used this particular navcomp until now.

Chewbacca returned to the cockpit a few moments later to resume his spot at the copilot station. «The shields are at half-capacity and both the close-proximity and long-distance sensors are dead.»

The status update drew a livid curse from Han that Leia silently echoed. While lucky to still be alive, their prospects without a hyperdrive or the other vital systems were grim; Bespin was a stretch but returning to Hoth was out of the question.

Finishing with her assigned task, Leia double-checked her numbers before announcing, “Coordinates are set. Do you want to check them?”

“Nah, I trust you, Sweetheart.”

Never mind that she’d faced down Darth Vader without flinching or held off squads of stormtroopers with little more than a blaster—those words made her heartbeat flutter. It was embarrassing! And how could it be that all his other nicknames irritated her so and yet this particular one had the opposite effect? Was it because he always seemed to mean it?

_You’re imagining things. As soon as we reach civilization, this will all be academic. He’ll be gone._

Reaching forward to engage the sublight engines, Han started them on their long journey. Then he settled back in his seat and swiveled it to the side so he could see them all as he blew out a loud sigh. “There’s good news and bad news.”

Exhaustion made Leia rub her eyes. Would this day never end?

“The sublights are working fine and should get us to Bespin in about twenty-six days—”

“Please tell me that’s the bad news,” Leia murmured. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard anything she would have classified as good; it was her sneaking suspicion that all of it was bad but just a matter of degree.

“—unless we can fix whatever’s wrong with the hyperdrive,” Han continued while directing a sour look at her. “There’s enough fuel for the trip and we replaced the water recycler and moisture reclamation unit not too long ago, so there should be no worries there, either. We restocked fresh food before reaching Hoth but that was a few days ago and now we’ve got an extra mouth to feed, so we’ll have to ration the fresh and frozen stuff or else it won’t last long. There’s plenty of dehydrated and emergency field rations to supplement it, so we should be okay.”

They all grimaced at the prospect, but it was still better than the alternative.

Going on, Han pointed a finger in the direction of the communications station. “We can’t risk sending out a distress signal. It’d probably draw the wrong kind of attention in this region and we’re not that desperate yet. We’ll have to run shifts in the cockpit since we’re flying blind with diminished shields—that’s rotating four-hours on, eight-hours off, Princess.”

Leia glanced toward the darkened and silent protocol droid seated next to her. “What about Threepio? Couldn’t he do most of the shifts?”

“I’m not letting him anywhere near the controls. Besides, do you really want to turn that chatterbox back on?”

It was a rhetorical question and she knew it; the cockpit was blissfully quiet without his constant fretting in the background. Plus, the droid’s rotten timing had done nothing to endear him to either of them. She didn’t bother with a response.

“Thought so. Chewie, you take the first shift. The Princess here is going back with me.”

Obviously thinking the same thing, Chewbacca joined her in throwing Han a suspicious glare. If he thought he could resume his romantic overtures now….

“What?” Han demanded, raising both hands in defense before pointing a finger in the general direction of the main hold to the rear. “The tools are at the bottom of the maintenance pit, remember? Nobody else can fit down there.”

“Oh,” she echoed Chewie.

Frowning at their joint insinuation, Han redirected his finger at her. “Fine, Your Worship. We’ll make this official. Until further notice, you’re now part of the crew. I only ferry paying passengers so you’re going to earn your keep. Come on.” He got out of his seat.

Unwilling to appear the unenthusiastic team player, she rose and followed him out the hatchway. They passed down the short cockpit corridor, across the ring corridor, down through the tiny lounge and into the main hold. A large piece of the grated decking was already raised up on its hinges, revealing a wide pit in the floor. Stepping up to the edge, she looked down into the confusion of crisscrossing shafts and piping. Although it was dimly lit from inside by a bank of blue-white lights around the rim, she couldn’t see the bottom.

“I’m supposed to go down there?”

“The whole tool tray fell in,” Han spoke as he stepped off to the side and opened a storage cabinet. He drew out a glow-rod, turned it on, and began snaking it down into the pit by a cord tied to one end. “Ever do any gymnastics, Your Petiteness?”

“Yes, but that was….” Not liking the sudden change in Han’s expression and reluctant to imagine or encourage where his thoughts had gone, she tapered off. Without another word, she removed her thermal vest and tossed it to the side, then sat down on the edge of the pit, letting her legs dangle down until her booted feet rested on one of the metal shafts. It was smooth and slippery, offering no purchase. Reconsidering her approach, she shifted around onto her belly, her fingers gripping the grated decking for support as she began to lower herself into the underbelly of the ship.

“Careful,” Han offered.

The space was too tight to allow a clear view of where she was going, forcing her to weave her way down mostly by feel. The dangling light cast stark shadows that danced about her as one of her feet finally touched what was probably the lower deck. “Could you try to hold that light steady, please?” she growled, unable to hide her aggravation.

Han let the glow-rod drop until it came to rest on the lower deck. “If you find anything else interesting down there, let me know, huh?”

Grunting in disgust, not wanting to contemplate what might be lurking in the bowels of the old freighter, she paused to think about her next move. Now she understood why he’d asked about the gymnastics—there was no way to reach the very bottom without using her whole body to balance and swivel around, and the grips seemed to get greasier the deeper she went. The space was so cramped that recovering the tools wasn’t just a case of bending over to pick them up. “How do you normally get tools out of here?” she called up.

“Sending down a princess is my preferred method, but they’re hard to come by, especially ones that don’t mind a little dirt.”

_You expected a straight answer?_

“If only there was a _little_ dirt down here,” she grumbled. Grime already coated her hands, making her grips that much more precarious.

The first item she came to was the empty tool tray, wedged upside-down against a support strut and the last cross shaft. She righted it and lodged it back in the same spot so she had a place to collect the tools, then shifted around on her stomach before kicking a foot out against another strut for leverage. With a careful stretch, she was able to grasp the closest set of spanners below. Dropping it in the tray, she swiveled around to pick up the next one in sight.

Despite her discomfort, it felt good to have something physical to do while she tried to work through her problems, of which there were many. The most obvious one was this whole farce of an escape that left her trapped aboard a decrepit scow with the one man in the universe who seemed determined to drive her crazy.

_Four weeks of this! Either I’m going to kill him or…._

For the first time, the notion struck her of what could happen while living in close quarters with Han for nearly a standard month. Not daring to entertain that thought, Leia clamped down on it by reminding herself that his plan was to reach Bespin, complete repairs, return her to the Alliance—assuming the rendezvous point hadn’t been compromised and he wasn’t forced to just dump her off at the nearest port to find her own way back—and then leave.

_Four weeks?_

“How you doing down there?” Han inquired, breaking in on her thoughts.

Overstretching while reaching for the next spanner, she answered with a loud grunt of surprise as she slipped forward. One leg swung up to hit against the next beam above her and she managed to bring her elbow around just in time to keep from sliding headfirst onto the hull below. Upside-down and struggling to regain her balance and dignity, she let out a particularly favorite Alderaani curse.

“Hey, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she forced out through gritted teeth.

“Is that your foot?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay, just checking.”

His obvious amusement did nothing to help her mood. Determined to appear as though she’d intended the slip, she reached out to grip another strut near her head, using it to brace herself as she picked up a couple more tools now within reach.

This really was an intolerable situation, playing fetch for a commitment-phobic spacer when she should be back with the Alliance where she belonged, tending to the wounded and helping with the reassembly and arranging purchases of replacement equipment and supplies….

_Dying on Hoth._

Groaning with the effort, she shifted around to snatch a rephaser up off the floor.

_That’s where you’d be right now. Dead in the Command Center, crushed or entombed or shot. Or worse…much worse._

The next recovered tool landed in the box with a clatter.

_Instead, I’m stuck here with an enigma of a man who’s going to…._

_But he didn’t abandon you. He could have. He should have._

Reaching over to snag the cord attached to the glow-rod, Leia directed light into the far corners. There was one tool left but, of course, it was out of reach. In a feat of acrobatics she hadn’t tried in some time, she rocked backwards in order to right herself, and then slid herself lengthwise along the shaft until she was within reach. After depositing the last stray tool in the tray, she twisted around, puffed out her cheeks from the exertion, and then gazed up to begin planning her ascent. She spotted Han’s face, haloed by the overhead lights, displaying the biggest smile she’d seen in weeks.

“You’re amazing,” he rumbled.

Something in that blasted smile, in his unanticipated compliment, threatened to stop her heart. Why did he insist on doing that when she was trying to stay mad at him? All it did was make things worse by generating a longing for something that couldn’t be. “I’m coming up,” she announced, deciding to ignore it.

Climbing was easier said than done as she now had to dedicate one hand to carrying the heavy tool tray. There wasn’t much room for maneuvering around, although at least she could see where she was going. Han lay facedown on the decking so he could reach into the pit when she got close enough to hoist the toolbox up with both hands.

“Thanks. You just saved us a couple hours of fooling around with a magnet on a line.”

So that was how they did it otherwise. She could see how difficult that would be. “Wouldn’t it be more efficient to just attach lines to the tools themselves?”

He disappeared from view for a moment as he got to his feet then reappeared in time to send her a smirk. “What, and miss that performance?”

Rolling her eyes, she debated remaining in the pit just to avoid him; she’d hidden in worse spots. Then giving up, she twisted around to begin climbing up onto the next shaft, where there was enough clearance to allow her to stand up, eye-level with the upper deck. Han tossed her a clean rag and she wiped her hands off while wondering what would be next—climbing through the ductwork, maybe, or some gross hazing chores usually assigned to new crew members?

Bracing himself at the edge of the pit, Han reached down again to offer a hand up. She eyed it for a moment before accepting in the spirit of teamwork. After grasping each other’s wrists, he hauled her up until she could step onto the uppermost cross shaft and then back onto the main deck. When he didn’t let go right away, she fretted what to do if he pulled her closer but she needn’t have bothered; he was too busy laughing.

Unable to find anything humorous about their situation, Leia extracted her arm. “What’s so funny?”

“Guess that’s one place where we won’t have to clean for a while.”

Frowning, she glanced down at herself, only now noticing the state of her all-white thermal bodysuit. From neck to toe, she was smeared with streaks and wide swaths of black grime. Worse yet, this was the only set of clothing she had—what personal items she possessed were packed on a troop transport that, with any luck, was heading toward the rendezvous point.

“I think it’s safe to say that you’ve never cleaned down there.”

“True. The job’s all yours. Looks like we’ll have to find you something else to wear, huh?” he added, his expression softening just a little.

Mustering a look of serenity she didn’t feel, she made a little nod. Could things get much worse?

_Scratch that—you know better. Things could get a lot worse._

“Come on, let’s go scrounge something up.” He led her back into the ring corridor toward the bunk room that served as his cabin and then palmed open the hatch and walked in.

The _Falcon_ ’s original configuration had a communal crew’s quarters with three bunks, accompanying lockers, and a combined sonics chamber and fresher. However, Solo had done many modifications to the ship, some having nothing to do with engines, shielding, or armament. The most significant was his revamp of the sonics, refitting and hooking it up to an oversized water recycling unit to provide real water showers, a true luxury on a starcraft of this size. It was a feature Leia exploited whenever possible, never mind that it probably fueled those rumors spreading around the Alliance.

Likewise, to accommodate Chewbacca, who was too tall for the bunk alcoves, Han had installed false bulkheads in a corner of the rear hold to create a makeshift cabin. Not long after the _Death Star_ and the start of his indefinite employment with the Rebellion, he’d added a second compartment next to Chewie’s, ostensibly for Alliance-related passengers requiring extra privacy. It had been used only once for that purpose, when he’d ferried General Rieekan to the Serricci base nearly a year ago. In practice, however, the cabin had become hers whenever she was aboard. The door was little more than a swinging sheet of thin durasteel with a latch, the only accommodations a cot spot-welded to the deck and a couple of crates cut up to function as a desk and locker. It wasn’t much and it wasn’t pretty, but it was an effort and sacrifice of space she would not have expected from the irritable smuggler, and now it would spare her the awkwardness of bunking next to him for a month.

While she’d been in his cabin countless times for the purposes of accessing the fresher or medical station, she hesitated at the threshold now. On the eve of a very long journey, this was not the time to set a precedent of being in his quarters, with him, for any other reason.

Han noticed her hanging back and his shoulders dropped as he pointed at one of the spare bunks. “Relax. I’m not going to attack you. Sit.”

Finally relenting, she stepped into the middle of the room. Three of the bulkheads featured recessed bunks, one of them serving double-duty as a rudimentary medical station. Knowing from past voyages that Han used the center bunk, her eyes were drawn to it as a variety of unhelpful thoughts distracted her. Then she noticed for the first time how wide the sleeping platform seemed and her eyes flicked to the other two beds for comparison; his was twice as deep and the realization dawned on her that he’d modified it to be much roomier. The only possible reason generated a flush that made the high collar of her snowsuit feel hotter than usual. Why hadn’t she ever noticed that before?

Dropping down onto the edge of the med bunk, her back ramrod straight and hands folded on her lap, Leia felt the irritation she’d cultivated for weeks start to wilt in the heat as wildly different ideas ran through her head, some of them involving that double-capacity bunk.

_Relax? I haven’t relaxed in years. I’m not likely to start now._

Watching as he rummaged through the small storage lockers built into the walls between the bunks, curiosity got the better of her again and she studied the rest of the cabin, hoping to glean more of an understanding of who this perplexing man was by the artifacts around them. Considering how shielded he was about his life in general, it came as little surprise that the cabin was devoid of decoration. Tending toward fastidiousness about his appearance, that nature was reflected by the distinct lack of personal clutter in the room. She might have liked a little peek inside that cabinet he was raiding, but her view was blocked so she tried to change the unspoken topic.

“Do you still have a datapad I can borrow? If I’m going to be stuck here for the next month, I might as well try to get some work done.” Foremost in her mind was monitoring the media sources for any news—official or otherwise—of the battle they’d just survived, but it would also provide an avenue of escape, of distraction from what was clearly going to be an awkward voyage.

Han spared a glance over his shoulder. “Sure, there’s one in the cabinet under the holotable.” He stopped, as if needing a moment to consider something, then turned to face her full-on. “Look, Leia, it _is_ going to be a long trip so you might as well get comfortable. It’s not much but you’re welcome to whatever I’ve got. I’ll make sure you’ve got access to the ship’s computer, too…but I’ll warn you, there’s a glitch so she’s a bit flaky.”

This new level of openness, from a man who as a rule was very guarded about his ship and his life, left her mystified. Why was he letting her into his life at a time when it would be in both their interests to block any new intimacy? She couldn’t decide whether this made him a sadist, a masochist, or just plain crazy. “Thank you. Is there anything I should avoid?”

“Yeah, Chewie in the morning before he’s had his kaffe. He’s not always the happiest Wookiee.”

“Duly noted.”

For a moment, they shared a common smile, as if on the same wavelength, and then she remembered she was still mad at him. Looking down at her interlocked hands, she tried to ignore his lingering gaze.

“What’s stashed in your cabin from the last trip?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, you’re always leaving stuff behind. I figured it was because you wanted excuses to keep using the shower,” Han said with one of his foolproof smirks. The air of confidence in his own irresistibility was as ever-present as his blaster and it never failed to vex her. She would rather take another ride through the asteroid belt than validate his theory.

He must have recognized she wasn’t giving up ground. “Anyway, it’s not much but it’s a start.” One arm full, he closed the locker, moved to stand in front of her, and then started listing items off as he handed them over. “A couple pairs of workout pants you can have, and a couple of shirts, some socks. Like I said, you’re welcome to anything else.”

“Thank you.” She paused, not sure of what to do next. Here she was, sitting on a bunk in Han’s cabin and about to share his clothing, with him staring down at her in anticipation. What he expected she didn’t dare guess, but a feeling akin to morbid curiosity kept her from moving. As if encouraged by her lack of action, he moved to sit down beside her.

The instant he sat, Leia realized she wasn’t ready for this yet, whatever this was. There were too many issues between them left unresolved and one kiss hadn’t erased them—all this latest kiss had done was maybe reopen negotiations. Not giving him the chance to do anything more, she stood and stepped out of reach. She turned in time to see the disappointment on his face but refused to feel sorry for him, not after the weeks of emotional injury he’d caused. She tipped her head toward the exit. “I need to clean up.”

Recognizing his cue to leave, Han rose to stand in front of her, and again there was an undecided air about him, as if he might force the unspoken subject on both their minds. His hazel gaze met hers before dropping down to her lips. She felt her heart beat faster despite her better reasoning.

_Don’t do this. This is crazy and pointless—he can’t make up his mind and you’re already damaged enough._

And yet here they stood with an abyss between them, both poised to fall.

Self-conscious, she looked away first and then felt Han step around her to palm open the hatch.

“I’ll go make us something to eat.”

She nodded in agreement, almost relieved that he’d taken a different initiative.

_Four weeks of this…?_


	6. Chapter 6

It was amazing what a real water shower and clean change of clothing could accomplish. Leia took her time washing up, running the water as hot as she could stand it until the last vestiges of Hoth were melted away, then stayed a good while longer under the water jets simply because it felt good.

Afterward, still in the cramped fresher, she went through the clothing Solo had given her, trying to figure out a way to wear them. The shirts were simple enough to deal with—the dark blue short-sleeved ones hung to about mid-thigh and were baggy but otherwise comfortable. The long-sleeved white shirt felt more like a dress, even with the sleeves rolled up, and probably wouldn’t be good for much else other than lounging or sleeping. The trousers were a tougher challenge due to their difference in height. She was in danger of tripping over the cuffs or having them fall down around her ankles—or, Goddess forbid, both! The black workout pants had a drawstring at the waist, a small blessing since it allowed her to cinch them tight and roll up the waistband to take up the extra material, and cutting off the excess pant legs made them functional—if he complained, she’d just have to buy him new ones once they arrived on Bespin. The only items she had no options for were shoes. The thin metal deck plates were tolerably cool but walking around barefoot or in socks on the slick floor while doing repairs wasn’t a safe choice. While her blue insulated snow boots were a bit too warm, they at least offered some protection and a grip, so she would have to stick with them most of the time.

Having sorted all that out, Leia retired to her makeshift cabin to await her first shift in the cockpit. Han had been right, of course—there were several basic items she tended to leave behind in anticipation of future missions: a handheld mirror, a brush and collection of hairpins, a toothbrush, some more-feminine cleansers and lotions, and a bottle of perfume he’d given her at some point over a year ago after one of his rare smuggling runs to the Core Systems. She’d liked the gift and yet for some reason—Propriety? Convenience? His benefit?—she kept it stashed aboard.

Since their fates were set in durasteel for the next twenty-six days unless they got the hyperdrive working, there was little point in putting a lot of effort into elaborate hair arrangements. Function above fashion had become her motto as a full-time member of the Rebellion. Today, she settled for a single loose plait down her back, just enough to keep it out of her way.

By the time she’d accomplished all these things, half of Chewbacca’s shift in the cockpit had already passed. She’d relaxed on the cot for a while but was unable to stop her mind from racing over recent events. Eventually, the odor of cooking food drew her out and back into the main hold where she shared a quiet meal alone with Han, who appeared both amused and intrigued by her new wardrobe. She’d waited with trepidation for him to make some sort of innuendo about her wearing his clothes, and he clearly wanted to, but he held back and they’d finished with nothing more than idle chitchat. Somehow, that seemed worse.

It was just as well that she manned the next watch in the cockpit while Chewie went back to work with Han on repairs. Despite her increasing exhaustion, she still needed the time alone to decompress. Seated in the pilot’s chair now with legs folded up beneath her, the datapad tucked into the seat at her side and forgotten, Leia leaned heavily on one of the armrests and stared out the canopy at the barely moving stars.

Now that their own situation had calmed down somewhat, other worrying thoughts had arisen. Despite the last report she’d heard of Luke being shot down, she prayed he was okay and already at the rendezvous. Likewise for General Rieekan; her friend, Lieutenant Keris Aldric; and the other Echo Base personnel she’d come to know. On a practical level, she knew that worrying achieved nothing and she was certainly in no position to help even if she knew where they were, and yet she couldn’t stop thinking about each of them and wondering if she’d ever see them again.

Of course, it was just as likely that they were anxious about her condition. The last transmission from Han had been to notify the last waiting Rebel transport that he was getting the princess out on the _Falcon_. After that, they’d disappeared into the maelstrom of Imperial ships in orbit around Hoth. For all anyone knew, the _Falcon_ , along with its crew and passengers, had been destroyed. They were effectively off the scanners.

Uninvited, her thoughts also kept circling back to Han—not that this was a new development but now there was little else to keep her from rehashing recent events. Back on Ord Mantell, when he’d told her he would be staying on with the Alliance, things had changed between them. They’d forged a peace, a cessation of hostilities. The pleasant compromise had given her a whole new outlook on their relationship, something she’d never taken seriously before. He couldn’t have picked a more vulnerable time to push her away, leaving her feeling manipulated and discarded, alternately agonizing over what she might have done wrong and why she’d been such a fool. His announcement to General Rieekan that he was leaving, despite his earlier promise, had proved the final insult. At first perplexed, then wounded, and then livid, she’d taken to lashing out at him with a complete disregard for propriety—a most unprincesslike behavior that appalled her and yet she’d been unable to stop.

And now, this time in a single brash act with that deliberate kiss a few hours ago, he’d tilted her world on end yet again. All the heat and desire he’d generated weeks ago on a couch in a hotel room on Ord Mantell had come rushing back like a storm surge. Dazed, she’d done exactly what she swore never to do again—she’d fled. Perhaps more than anything else, that’s what bothered her now; she felt at the mercy of her hormones for the first time in her life and it was more than just disturbing.

As if summoned, the cockpit hatch slid aside and Han strolled in. He reached overhead to flip on some toggle switches then grinned in satisfaction as a series of blinking red lights switched to steady blue. Only then did he finally look down toward her. “Hey, Beautiful. Thinking about me?”

And just like that, she felt her temper spike once more. “Shut up, Han,” she snapped, but an instant later, she regretted it. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and attempted to cleanse her mind. Despite wanting to stay angry with him—it was a far more comfortable and familiar emotion to deal with than the flutter in her stomach whenever he called her that—she found herself running out of fuel. If his goal was to wear her down, he had finally succeeded.

Han dropped into the copilot’s seat beside her but she refused to look at him.

“Was I being difficult there?” he ventured.

“Extremely.”

“It’s a bad habit.” He sounded a little contrite but it was so difficult to know when he was sincere.

When she didn’t respond, he sank back into the seat, his eyes scanning over the controls. “You’re still mad at me. But hey, I had no idea the hyperdrive was—”

“That’s _not_ why I’m mad at you! I just can’t—” Stopping, she rubbed her temples and wondered where she was going with this outburst. Han’s dark eyebrows had arched up in surprise, his full attention on her now, and the fear of being made a fool yet again warred with her desire to just get it out of her system. “You make me feel like the ball at a smashball championship.”

His mouth dropped open but she couldn’t tell if it was shock at her confession or just her choice of analogy. When he said nothing, she plowed ahead before she lost her nerve.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to _do_ anymore, Han. What do you want from me?” The sound of abrupt defeat in her own voice was a surprise but she felt lost and exposed, something so beyond her normal experience.

“What do I—?”

His look of befuddlement pushed her past the flash point and she let out a growl of frustration. “You know _exactly_ what I mean!” Restraining the urge to pound her fist into the armrest—or, worse yet, Han’s head—she clutched the cushion in a death grip.

_Why doesn’t he just leave me alone so my heart can break in peace? Why does he keep rubbing it in like this?_

His mouth snapped closed as he studied her for a long moment. She found gratification in his shell-shocked expression; he was caught off guard but maybe he was finally starting to get it. “Look…I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Well, you did.” She shifted in the chair to turn away, unable to look at him any longer. Not caring how it appeared, she pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees, feet up on the edge of the seat. “I just want it to stop. I have enough pain in my life without this—this….” She couldn’t go on. If she opened those doors now, she feared she’d never get them closed again.

“Leia…” he began softly.

“Why did you come back?” It was more an accusation than a question.

Han’s pause was long enough that it made her look back at him. “Because I wasn’t going to let you martyr yourself.”

His insight stung, all the more so because he seemed so oblivious as to why they were having this encounter. Her response was automatic and dismissive. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence,” Han fired back. “You ignored the nonessential personnel evacuation, and General Rieekan told me the Command Center was hit but you were still refusing to leave. He guessed what you were planning to do and that’s why he contacted me. He knew I wouldn’t leave you in there—that I’d get you out or die trying.”

Not knowing whether to be more shocked by Han’s statement, the general’s blatant attempt to manipulate Han through his feelings for her, or the fact that the ploy had worked, she stared back at him. The implications of her fellow Alderaani’s unorthodox tactic had obviously occurred to Han as well, and that irked her even more. Wearing an angry frown, she said, “Don’t bring Rieekan into this. Staying there was my choice.”

“That’s exactly my point.”

Annoyed that he’d just won that round with sounder logic, Leia looked away again. “You’re leaving, anyway. Why do you care?”

“If you haven’t figured out why yet, then I guess I don’t know why anymore, either.”

Heat flared in her chest. Twisting around, she stabbed a finger at him. “There! _That’s_ what I’m talking about. What does that _mean_? I can’t take this constant pushing and pulling from you anymore. Either commit or leave me alone, but stop toying with me like this!”

She glared down her nose at him, daring him to say something, playing her last sabacc card. Why did they keep dancing around this issue like children taunting one another to say a forbidden word first? What did he expect her to say that she hadn’t already revealed in that embarrassing incident days ago when Echo Base’s malfunctioning PA system had made what was a private conversation all-too-public? Why was this all still her burden to bear? Han was currently displaying a mix of emotions she could only guess at and that was half the problem—she was sick to death of guessing.

Sucking in a deep breath, as if preparing to dive into the unknown depths of a whirlpool, Han’s gaze didn’t waver. “The reason that bounty on me is so high now is because I _couldn’t_ leave you. Don’t you get that?”

Trying to unearth his point, she stared at him in disbelief. Was his whole mess with Jabba the Hutt somehow supposed to be _her_ fault?

“Damn it, Leia, I _care_ about you. Too much. I’ve been trying my damnedest to sabotage this because I _have_ to leave. I thought making you hate me would make it easier. It was all damage control but it’s just made everything worse.”

_Damage control._

It was a concept Leia understood too well; the last fifteen months of her life had been little more than trying to manage the debris of a world disintegrating around her. But she couldn’t wrap her mind around this. Hugging her legs tighter, she turned away to press her cheek against her knees.

_So he isn’t leaving because he doesn’t care—he’s leaving because he cares too much. Is that supposed to make me feel better?_ She rocked her head, struggling to understand it all.

_How can he expect me to believe anything he says anymore?_

If all that was true, then why wasn’t she happy? Why was she fighting back tears all of a sudden?

“Ah, Kest! I keep hurting you.” There was sudden movement at her side and she felt him peel away one of her hands from her knee, grasping it in his strong grip. Looking up, she found Han towering above her. Giving up on words and resorting to actions, he swiveled her chair and pulled her up to her feet and into his arms. Unable to summon any resistance, instead she let him gather her up.

“I’m sorry, Leia.”

His murmured apology caressed her ear and echoed through her mind, and that innate ability to read people—that sixth sense that had served her so well in politics and life—whispered that he was truthful. Pressing her face against his shoulder, she felt the tears well up.

_Oh Goddess, I can’t cry! Not now, not in front of him!_

The desperate thought proved the final trigger and her last defenses crumbled. Too late to stop it, she hitched up against him, grasping handfuls of his shirt as all the pent-up doubts and lingering pain from his rejection, the anger at the futility of it all—and then suddenly darker things as well, the multiple horrors of the day and older hurts from before she’d even known him—flowed out with each cathartic sob. She’d never cried in front of anyone since childhood but couldn’t stop now as Han’s arms wrapped tighter around her. Remaining silent, he seemed to know just the sort of comfort she needed right then; it was support that didn’t involve platitudes, a silent strength that buoyed her while her own slipped.

It felt like forever before her composure returned and she grew aware of how damp Solo’s shirt was against her cheek. Not only had she cried in front of the one man from whom she’d tried the hardest to hide her feelings—a mortifying lapse in her control—but she’d cried on him. Would he view her differently now, maybe begin treating her like some fragile hothouse flower or worse? Trying to gather up the fortitude needed to deal with her embarrassment, she pressed her forehead into his shoulder.

As if Han sensed her new distress, one of his hands moved to rub across the back of her shoulders.

Trying to mask the sniffles, she worked on calming her breath before daring to speak into the smooth plane below his collarbone. “I’ve been so horrible to you lately.”

“Wasn’t your fault. I deserved it.”

A long moment of unfamiliar silence wrapped around them as they stood in the star-marked skylight of the cockpit, and she willfully lost herself for a little while longer, relishing how it felt to have his arms around her again after weeks of nothing but cold and loneliness. In a tentative gesture, her hands dropped so she could slide them under his flight jacket and around his back, returning his embrace. Why was this so very hard for them to achieve when it seemed so natural?

“Thank you for coming back for me,” she whispered, and meant it.

His lips pressed the top of her head. “Hey, it’s what I do. Just don’t go making a habit of it, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed with a small nod against his chest. It was clear now just how despondent she’d become that morning back on Hoth; he’d not only saved her life once more, but he’d pulled her back from the brink of fatal despair. It was enough to make her mind reel. With their real motivations out in the open for once, she had no idea where it might lead. She feared moving forward since there seemed little promise of a bright future for either of them—between his Death Mark and her war—and yet she had no desire to go back either.

“What happens now?” she dared to ask anyway, even though she knew it tempted fate.

His broad chest expanded with an audible breath, as if he needed a moment of his own to absorb what had just happened, or maybe just to gauge his audience. “I don’t know, Sweetheart. Give me a second and I’m sure I’ll think of—”

Before he could continue that thought or she could prepare a suitable retort, the cockpit door swished open to reveal Chewbacca. He was already mid-roar but stopped, nonplussed by what he found. Suddenly conscious of the scene they presented, Leia let go of Han and took a step back, bringing a hand up to brush her cheeks in a hasty attempt to wipe away any last evidence of tears.

«What has he done now?» Chewbacca glared at his friend but his question was directed toward her.

“Shut up, you oversized piece of flea bait,” Han snapped in annoyance.

“It’s okay, Chewie,” she assured him, although her voice sounded shaky even to her own ears.

As his sky-blue eyes shifted from princess to pilot, not looking convinced, Chewbacca tilted his head in a single nod of acknowledgment. «Very well, but if he’s bothering you, I can stuff him in a storage locker until he learns some manners.»

“You can _try_ ,” Han warned.

“I don’t think that will be necessary this time but I’ll keep it in mind,” she responded.

One of Han’s eyebrows arched at her and a corner of his sensuous mouth crinkled up into a little smile. “‘This time’?”

Seeming satisfied, Chewie turned his attention back to his captain. «Solo, I still need help with threading the replacement wires through the hyperdrive housing.»

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be right there.” Han turned back to her as if questioning the wisdom of leaving her alone right now.

“Go on. I’m fine.” When Leia tried to look away, he ducked a little to stay in her line of sight, as if by peering deeper into her eyes, he could find what she wasn’t saying. She hadn’t thought it possible to frown and smile at the same time but managed both and realized she probably looked a mess. “Okay, fine—give me five minutes.”

“Sure, Leia.”


	7. Chapter 7

Han began stopping by the cockpit on a regular basis as Leia’s shift continued, making a show of checking sensors and flipping toggle switches, but Leia suspected his real goal was to check in on her. It was a sometimes annoying tendency he’d demonstrated in the past whenever he felt reason to worry.

Even so, to learn that he cared enough to bother when he already had enough burdens was reassuring. And despite the humiliation of weeping in front of the jaded spacer, she admitted that she felt a little better now. Worn out and drained, yes, but also free at last from the weight of cloaking her feelings. Most of the negative emotions that had overtaken her in the past few weeks were rendered manageable now that they’d finally admitted the truth to one another. She would cope with the rest on her own terms the same way she tackled every other challenge in her life.

He’d made no effort to correct her assumption, back on Ord Mantell when she’d taken to heart his offer to stay on indefinitely, that he was doing it for her benefit; indeed he’d taken advantage of her relief. Swept up in the romantic atmosphere of the evening, she’d almost slept with him that night; if not for her own inexperienced panic at the last moment, she probably would have. The next day had brought an encounter with a pair of amateur bounty hunters followed by Han’s abrupt and cold reversal of affection and commitment. That sort of wound was bound to leave an emotional scar with her and because logic was a weak balm when it came to healing an injured heart, she knew it would take time—a commodity neither of them had in great supply. Even though their sublight trip to Bespin would take weeks, it was finite and then their paths would diverge, possibly forever. It was a deadline she had no confidence of meeting.

On the other hand, just a few hours ago, Han had admitted he cared about her. Although no real secret, it was still the first time he’d said it to her face. He’d stayed all this time because of her and risked his life just to come back for her; it was enough to remind her of the brief happiness they’d discovered weeks ago. What would it be like to have that joy for longer than a day or two? What would it be like without the lingering fear that he would leave one day? She found herself longing for it despite the inner voice that still cautioned restraint. After all, he’d said a lot of things when he thought it would get what he wanted.

_What’s the word of a scoundrel worth?_

_Maybe that’s a bit harsh. He is still here._

Not only had he changed his mind during the battle above Yavin IV and again on Hoth—both times in direct conflict with his own best interests—but he’d also passed up multiple other opportunities to leave, instead remaining to take one dangerous assignment after another. He’d even volunteered his services without pay on that mission to Ord Mantell. Granted, it was for the purely personal motive of getting her alone, but he had helped on the mission nonetheless.

It wasn’t even the risks Han took that surprised her—his lifestyle was dangerous. It was because he took them for her sake. Even though General Rieekan had a soft spot for her and fancied himself a guardian in lieu of her father, he was no fool; he’d easily interpreted what motivated Han.

For someone who took pride in her ability to read and understand others, the history of miscommunication between the two of them humbled her. Why had it taken them so long to be honest with one another?

A pinging noise began to emit from the communications console, signaling the end of her time on duty. As she rose to switch it off, Han appeared at the hatch, ready to relieve her. “Hey, Sweetheart,” he said as he sidestepped the motionless Threepio to reset the alarm.

“Hey.” Body protesting from sitting too long, Leia twisted around in an effort to relieve the kinked-up muscles in her back, then grabbed the closest seat headrest for balance as every other major muscle group began clamoring for attention. She stretched up toward the overhead canopy in a long, lavish movement. It wasn’t until she was mid-yawn that she noticed Han was ogling her and too late she tried to stifle it by covering her mouth. She must have looked ridiculous buried in his oversized clothing; it reminded her of when as a child she’d clomped around the palace in her father’s shoes, already trying to fill them.

When he continued to stare, lost in his own thoughts, Leia felt a different childish impulse and stuck her fists on her hips. “Why don’t you take a holo? It’ll last longer.”

It only took Solo an instant to recover. “Your Highness, I had no idea you were into that sort of thing! Let me get Chewie’s recorder.” He started for the exit.

“Oh, shut up,” Leia retorted, even as a genuine smile softened her tone. Tired as she was, it seemed some of her humor had returned at last. It had been nearly a month since she’d found anything to laugh about, and while his inappropriate timing could be annoying, his wit kept drawing her back to him like a Jawa to shiny things.

_Maybe he’s right. Maybe you do like it when he’s being a scoundrel. It’s never boring._

“You look exhausted,” he said, his expression turning more serious. “You’re off for the next eight hours. Go back and get some sleep.”

_Sleep? What’s that?_

Too tired to recall the last time she’d had a full night’s rest, she suspected passing out would be the more accurate term if she lay down now. Even so, it seemed an extravagance with so much work yet to be done. “What about repairs? The hyperdrive—”

“Isn’t going anywhere. We’ve isolated the problem and there’s not much we can do. Chewie’s already bunked out.” Han moved closer and she assumed he was heading for the seat she’d vacated, but instead he stopped in front of her, standing so close that she imagined she could feel his body heat. “There’ll be plenty to do when you wake up, don’t worry.”

Maybe some part of her had been waiting for just such a dismissal because at last she capitulated, her shoulders dropping. “Whatever you say, Captain.” Glancing down, expecting him to step aside so she could pass, it took another second before she looked up again, realizing he wasn’t moving.

Instead, his gaze roamed over her face as if drinking in every detail. The sudden awareness of his proximity made her flush and she really wished she could get some control over that reaction because it was a dead giveaway. But she recognized the intense look on his features, too; the fact that he wanted to kiss her again was stamped all over it, as clear to her now as the scar on his chin. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one easy to read; maybe she’d only needed the deciphering key and a willingness to translate.

Nothing was said, no clear signal given as they migrated toward a midway point, drawn together like magnets, and Leia discovered something different this time when their lips met. This wasn’t the incandescent arc of pent-up passion, self-denial, and danger like earlier while hidden on the asteroid, and it wasn’t the heady rush of astonished pleasure like back on Ord Mantell. This was gradual, the softest of caresses, an unhurried exploration; it was rediscovering territory with a new appreciation. There was unquestionable heat in what became a series of shallow kisses, but it was more like a slow burn that reminded her of eating a spicy Crathulan dish, the steady excitement building up in her system until too late she realized her entire body temperature had ramped up a few degrees. He tasted of kaffe, musky and rich, energizing and necessary.

Her hands found their way up his chest and then her arms slipped around his neck as she lost track of time. His own work-roughened hands settled on her hips as his lips continued to brush against hers, tantalizing, as if she needed any more coaxing. Her eyes opened briefly to meet his gaze in what felt an intimate sharing, a mutual breakthrough as half-hearted attempts to stop gave way to the need for just one more taste, one more affirmation.

“Leia,” he moaned, his breath mingling with hers.

Something in Han’s subterranean voice, in how he used her name like that, triggered a new surge of electricity through her, grounding her to the spot. The intensity made her gasp against his lips, and in that moment, the truth penetrated her nebulous thoughts; right there, in the middle of the cockpit, still fully clothed and with nothing more than her name spoken, they’d soared right past flirting and straight into lovemaking. And what was more, she wanted it, wanted him, without a doubt.

_This is crazy! I’m not ready for this yet, not by a long shot._

They needed to stop—now—before things got out of hand, before something happened they’d both regret. Tapping into some last remnant of self-discipline, she disengaged and pushed away. He let her go but not before ducking down to steal one last kiss she didn’t attempt to avoid.

Han practically glowed in the dim lighting, his smile brighter than a spaceport beacon. That or an entire carafe of kaffe had just kicked in—and considering how long it had been since any of them had slept, perhaps one had. She rolled her shoulders to resume some level of decorum but his broad smile was infectious and in spite of her better judgment, she mirrored it as she officially handed back the helm. “It’s your watch.”

Slipping out of arm’s reach and through the hatchway before Solo could sidetrack her again, she made her way down the short cockpit passageway. Only then did she press a hand against her cheek, feeling the heat still burning there.

_I’m not running away this time. I ended that encounter in a respectable way, at the appropriate time, with dignity intact…right?_

Dazed, she wandered all the way into the main hold before coming to a stop, eyes wide and staring at the decking.

_What just happened back there?_

Every time she set a goal or limit, Han waltzed in to change it on her. Hadn’t she just decided it would require significant time to work things out—probably more than this trip would afford them? Yet in less time than it had taken her to reach that conclusion, he’d skipped right past half those issues with another knee-wobbling kiss. She knew better than to believe their problems were resolved and she knew that shoving those troubles aside to enjoy the moment wouldn’t change what awaited them at the other end. Those kinds of difficulties tended to catch up with a person, much like Han’s history with Jabba threatened to do now, when running was no longer an option and the interest accumulated was steep.

Standing in the center of the hold, Leia’s gaze moved from the holochess table that doubled as a dining nook to the abandoned engineering station, then to the tiny galley, and finally the circuitry bay. The _Falcon_ felt cavernous and empty all of a sudden and she sighed, recognizing that this sensation of aloneness would become a common occurrence during their journey as they worked and slept in alternating shifts. She supposed that could be a good thing if she needed an excuse to avoid becoming any more entangled with the troublesome spacer.

_But that’s not what you want anymore, is it? Not if that kiss is anything to go by._

Indeed, entangling with Han suddenly held an all-new appeal.

_Four weeks of this…._

Despite being almost punch-drunk with exhaustion, Leia still felt as though she’d just received her own shot of kaffe straight into a vein. If she looked anything like Han had a moment ago, it was no wonder she felt wired. With a resigned shake of her head, she crossed the rest of the main hold and entered the circular passageway that wound back around the ship. Maybe walking a few laps would settle her spinning thoughts enough so she could sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Han’s turn at watch was too quiet. He’d half-hoped that despite her agreeing to get some rest, Leia might disobey his orders and reappear to keep him company or better yet pick up where they’d left off with that kiss. Now _there_ was a favorite fantasy of his: the sassy and haughty princess so overwhelmed with ignited passion that she sought him out in the cockpit for some extra-special attention. With everybody bunked out, there was real a temptation to revisit that fantasy now.

_You’d better scuttle that idea. You know damned well that’d be the moment she walks back in and—no doubt about it—that would sabotage everything._

It wasn’t long after they’d established the base on Serricci fifteen months ago that Han had begun refusing the occasional offer to bunk with an interested female within the Alliance personnel. His original rationale had been to not jeopardize his noncommittal work arrangement with High Command, but soon enough he’d admitted—if only to himself—that it was really fear that rumors of his sexual exploits would leak back to the princess and ruin his chances with her. Whether or not his motive was noble, the fact remained he’d barely shared a bunk since, even while away on a mission. There was a price to pay for such restraint, however. While he’d endured the occasional dry spell in the past, this marathon left him feeling like a frustrated teenager facing only one alternative to relieve the pressure.

To make matters worse, much to his chagrin, images of Leia had come to dominate his fantasies. That fact made real life around base all the more difficult. It seemed like whenever she was around him, his libido would leap ahead to all sorts of intimate and graphic ideas, often at the worst possible moments. It had caused him to duck out early from more than one Rebel briefing, no doubt earning him yet another mark of disapproval from the very person most responsible for his condition.

_Chewie’s right. You’ve got it bad. It’s been too damned long._

Letting off some steam would have to wait but there was little else to occupy his time. Out of sheer boredom, he flirted with the idea of switching Threepio back on, but then rational thought returned and he left the powered-down droid manning the unused communication station in silence. For a while, he’d picked up Leia’s abandoned datapad and begun scanning through what news the device could pick up from their remote location, but he had trouble focusing on the articles because his thoughts kept wandering back to his semi-reluctant passenger.

Daring to hope their relationship had righted course once more after the recent turbulence of bounty seekers and stupid decisions, he considered it an excellent sign that she was letting him touch her again.

_Hell, the fact she didn’t run this time is progress, right?_

She’d also recovered her humor, something he’d missed since Ord Mantell. Even so, he still saw reservation and trepidation in those fathomless eyes, as though she feared another reversal at any moment, and the fact it was all his fault troubled him more than he cared to admit.

Needing to move, Han stood up and stretched, arching his back until a loud popping sound emanating from his left shoulder made him wince. The movement recalled a sympathetic memory of watching Leia do the same thing hours before. While the loose clothing hid most of her feminine attributes, the sight of the ex-senator in his clothing struck an odd and thrilling chord—it wasn’t just the visual image but the implied intimacy that stirred his blood.

And that last kiss…. He was no innocent—he’d indulged in his share of portside pleasures—yet he couldn’t recall anything quite like how that encounter had felt. In a way, it was perhaps the most intimate thing he’d ever done with a woman, a concept that shocked him. He knew now that Leia wouldn’t be just another mindless pleasure romp or a fleeting moment of illicit release. She had reached inside him to a place nobody had before. She exerted an irresistible and invisible attraction like the gravitational pull of a heavenly body. His own mystification had been mirrored in her kaffe-colored eyes; that craving and wonder and surrender as she’d moved toward him, as if it was out of her control, had been mutual. He could easily recall the feel of her silky soft lips again, the thrill when her eyes had opened and met his, not flinching away this time. In all his experience, he’d never called out a lover’s name in passion and yet he’d said her name in that moment, feeling it rise in response just like the rest of him.

Han expelled a ragged breath, shaking his head. Either he was going to have to spend some quality time alone as soon as his watch was over or he needed a cold shower—or both. At this rate, he was going to drive himself mad.

_Four weeks, Pal. You’d better pace yourself._

The cockpit door slid open and Han turned to watch Chewbacca step in.

«Everything quiet?»

“Deader than the Emperor’s love life. You’ve still got some time left.”

«Yes, just wanted to see if I should start a pot of kaffe.»

“Yeah, thanks, Buddy…. Did the princess turn in?”

Chewie cocked his head to one side. «I believe so. I haven’t seen her. Why?»

Han shrugged off his partner’s teasing. “Stubborn. She doesn’t know when to quit sometimes.”

That earned him a chortle from the Wookiee. «Look who’s talking.»

“All right, all right, I get it. I’m only human.”

«Yes, but I do not hold that against you.»

Rolling his eyes at what was turning into yet another reluctant conversation about his relationship with Leia, Han got the distinct impression the Wookiee had picked a side. “Look, are you going to keep giving me a hard time about that?”

«No, I don’t think so. I think you’ve managed well enough on your own.»

Solo grunted in wordless acknowledgment; there was no need to gloat.

«So you two are back on speaking terms?»

“You could say that, I guess.”

«Good. I like her.»

“I know, Chewie. I do, too.”

«She’s not like the other mates you’ve picked in the past.»

Han threw his hands up in exasperation. “I’m so glad you approve, Dad.” Pointing back toward the main hold, he added, “Listen, do me a favor and pull the hyperdrive motivator before you come back, huh?”

Accepting the order with a nod, Chewie left the cockpit, although Han could still hear him hooting in amusement until the hatch slid closed.

Han ran a hand through his hair to give his scalp a tired scratch. He had to admit that his friend was right. Leia was unlike any woman he’d dealt with before. Maybe that was why he felt so over his head half the time—like this had the potential to swallow him up whole and change his life. Change him.

_Four weeks._

The initial news had seemed intolerable, a prison sentence. But maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all now that she was warming back up; he could be trapped with far less pleasurable company. He and Chewie shared a familiar and comfortable partnership, working and playing together or staying out of each other’s hair—no easy task!—with practiced ease. The princess, on the other hand, was a new and questionable element; they’d never been forced to spend such a long stretch of time together, particularly in such close quarters with few buffers.

_Either we’re going to kill each other or…._

The prospect made Han smile.

_Or we’re going to get to know each other a lot better._

Staring out the canopy, Han thought again about the journey ahead. They were moving so slow relative to the expanse of space between their current location and their destination that the distant stars barely moved. Four weeks—it was a hell of a long time to be stuck in limbo, effectively blind and incommunicado. Even though they could technically fly on sublight engines via autopilot and monitor the ship from the engineering station in the main hold or aft corridor, the fact that they were without functioning short- and long-range sensors meant continuing with the watch up front or risk hitting something. The dish on the upper hull had sustained damage, but without physically going outside to check, it was impossible to determine how bad or if it was reparable without an atmospheric docking bay. To do any of that, he would have to bring the _Falcon_ to a complete stop for the duration, something that would just add more time to their trip. Attempting a spacewalk while at speed was far too dangerous, the combination of momentum and vacuum easily lethal. Sure, he’d taken that risk once or twice in his desperate youth….

_You aren’t desperate now?_

Well, maybe he was a little bit, but there was more to lose now.

Chewbacca was back in a few moments. «Kaffe’s in the galley. Motivator’s on the table.»

“Thanks, Buddy. She’s all yours,” Han said in relief as he headed toward the rear, glad for once to be out of the cockpit.

Some time later, after a trip to his cabin for a long-overdue shower, Han found himself walking a tour around the ship, feeling neither refreshed nor satisfied. Pausing in the engineering bay at the rear of the ship, he stared with mixed feelings at the exposed workings of the hyperdrive engine. He was filled with a restless frustration. He needed to get on with the business with Jabba. Just when he’d finally worked up the nerve to say goodbye, he’d been stymied yet again. Now, with this new forced intimacy for the next several weeks, he faced the possibility of becoming so involved with Leia that he might lose any remaining willpower to leave. While half of him rather hoped for just that, the other half was all too aware of how such a failure could doom them both.

Walking through to the open blast doors that led into the number three hold, his eyes automatically went to the closed hatch of Leia’s makeshift cabin. Over the dull and steady rumble of the sublight engines to his right, he strained to hear anything that might indicate she was still awake. He told himself that it was because he wanted to make sure she was getting some needed sleep, but that didn’t explain his disappointment when nothing stirred.

_You’re turning into a stalker._

With a frown, he left and headed to the main hold, stopped in the narrow galley to pour a fresh mug of kaffe, then walked over to the lounge alcove to stare down at the charred hyperdrive motivator on the holochess table. It didn’t look good. Some of the circuitry was only blackened while the rest was actually melted into slag. Standing there, he closed his eyes and listened to his running ship for a moment, as if she might tell him how to fix things the same way the other female in his life had done hours ago.

_Nothing. It figures she’d give me the cold shoulder now._

It was nearly two days since they’d blasted out of Hoth’s atmosphere and common sense dictated he should go back to his cabin to sleep before his next shift rolled around, but instead, he set his mug on the checkered surface of the table, took a seat, and contemplated while staring at the ruined motivator.

No doubt about it, the cursed thing was dead. Shorted out. Fried beyond repair. Why the hell hadn’t he stocked a spare one? The blowout was always a risk since the unit wasn’t rated for the modified power source he’d installed to over-clock the engines, all part of his efforts to squeeze that extra boost of speed out of them. It was a foolish mistake to not have a backup, and he’d nearly gotten them all killed because of it.

_You’re slipping, Solo. You’re letting too many distractions get to you._

There was a scuffing sound from the ring corridor and Han looked up across the table to see his biggest distraction appear in the passageway. He was surprised to see Leia since it was only halfway through what should have been her sleep cycle. She’d let her hair down so it flowed loose over the front of one shoulder, adding to her just-awakened appearance. She stopped still upon seeing him. With her arms wrapped tight across her chest, she looked spooked. Something in her bearing set off an alarm within Han.

“Hey, you okay? Thought you’d turned in.”

Making a visible decision, Leia stepped down into the lounge to approach the table. Now that she was closer, he could see her red-rimmed eyes, although whether it was from fatigue or crying, he couldn’t tell; he just knew that neither possibility made him happy. Still silent, she sank down onto the edge of the acceleration couch across the table from him but didn’t relax and didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she stared down at the floor, lost in her own thoughts.

She was dressed in some cut-off black fatigue pants, one of his white dress shirts, and those half-undone and rolled down blue snow boots. The way her long hair curtained her features, the princess looked a great deal younger and more vulnerable than usual. The sight tugged at yet another part of his resurrected conscience. “Can’t sleep?”

Leia finally broke her silence, her voice so quiet it was hard to make out the words over the background thrum of the engines. “I fell asleep okay….”

“Nightmares?” Sitting back, he chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, wishing he had a solution.

With her internment on the _Death Star_ , the destruction of Alderaan, too many close calls on past missions, and now Hoth and its aftermath, he figured she had enough source material to fuel nightmares for half the population on Coruscant. It was a demonstration of her strength of will that she could still function at all, let alone act like it didn’t get to her. Normally, she hid the fallout with makeup and deflection—as if he wouldn’t notice her haunted eyes or the lingering pain in her aura—so it was a shock to see her this way, the remnants of sleep and fear still fresh on her face. Guessing she didn’t want to dwell on it, he asked, “Want some kaffe?”

Shaking her head, Leia leaned a shoulder against the padded backrest of the bench. Although her body language still screamed tension, her glance up toward him was the invitation he needed.

“Keep me company, then. I’m just staring at this thing hoping sheer willpower will fix it.” With a gesture at the scrap heap between them, he added, “Guess the Force isn’t with me.”

A hint of a smile flickered across her pale features and she turned more toward him, seeming to unwind just a tad. “I don’t think the Force works on broken machinery, but I could be wrong.”

_That’s it. Coax her out. Give her a reason to forget._

Experience had taught him that a laugh could work miracles with this complex woman, so he went with what he did best. “Looks like we’re stuck on the scenic tour. But hey, on the bright side, now I’ve got an extra hand to help clean this ship up. She’ll be spotless by the time we get there.”

“If cleaning this ship was your goal all the long, Captain, you could have just asked.” Her tone was dry, demonstrating just the sort of sass he’d liked from day one.

“Would you have said yes?”

One corner of her mouth crinkled up. “Probably not….”

He loved this part, the pleasurable duel of minds; she was such a superb sparring partner. “Exactly. That’s why I prefer elaborate schemes that mask my brilliance as a mastermind.”

That finally drew a little laugh from her and she dropped her arms so they rested at her sides. “You hide it well.”

“Thanks.”

The fact she didn’t follow up with another wisecrack was evidence enough of her exhaustion, but then she let out a heavy breath and rubbed her eyes in an obvious struggle to stay engaged. Guessing she must have come out here to escape whatever had haunted her back in her cot, Han now saw his opportunity to stage another rescue. The timing wasn’t right to push for anything like another kiss, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t offer simple comfort. Hell, it could even gain him a few points.

Dropping a hand to pat the curved seat between them and then draping the arm along the back of the banquette, Han indicated there was plenty of room. “Come over here.”

Tired though she was, she gave him a doubtful look.

“Hey, it’s me.”

That only earned him a raised eyebrow.

“Okay, I deserved that. I won’t try anything, I promise…. Unless you try something first. Then all bets are off.” That last bit he added out of reflex but diluted it with an easy smile.

Biting her lower lip in an obvious debate over whether the benefits outweighed the risks, she let the offer hang in the air for another beat before relenting by pulling herself along the rounded table edge, scooting along on the bench until she was within reach. There was tension in her body as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, but then she seemed to let go at last and relax against him.

“See? Not so bad.”

“Not so bad,” she echoed while shifting around to get more comfortable, bringing her bent legs up onto the seat as she huddled under his arm.

With her so warm and real in his loose embrace—even for such an innocent reason—Han marveled at how right it felt. Memories of a similar situation, their brief interlude on a hotel couch on Ord Mantell, flooded back and it was more of a struggle than he’d expected, restraining the urge to pick up where they’d left off that night.

_Cool your engines. That’s not what she needs tonight._

“Is that part of the hyperdrive?” Leia asked, only seeming to notice for the first time what lay in front of them.

“It was.”

“I see…. It doesn’t look good.”

“No.”

“Is it replaceable?”

“Sure…after we reach Bespin. I don’t have a spare.” He absently ran his fingers along the smooth exposed skin on the sharp angle of her elbow. “Once we’re there, it won’t take long to swap out, and then she’ll be good as new again.”

_And then…?_

The question lay unspoken between them, like a giant black hole. Staring forward at nothing, he cupped her elbow and drew her a little closer, unable at that moment to imagine ever letting go.

_How the hell am I going to manage that?_

“Was this also part of your elaborate scheme?”

From the sound of her voice, Han could just imagine the little smile that probably decorated her lips, and then he realized she’d actually asked a question and he snapped back to the present. “What?”

“This,” she answered as she shifted her head against the side of his chest, and he assumed she was implying their current embrace.

“What we’re doing right now?”

“Umm-hmmm.”

“If I said yes, would you get up and leave?”

No doubt her idea of a joke, Leia paused too long. “Probably not.”

“Good.” Reaching out his other hand to pick up his mug of cooling kaffe, he took a sip before continuing. “I love it when a plan falls together.”

Leia yawned and then prompted, “Tell me more of this elaborate plan.”

Amused, he sneaked a peek down to find that her eyes were closed. “A mastermind never reveals his secrets. Let’s just say that my genius would surprise you.”

There was a soft sound that rose from the woman tucked under his arm. “You’re always surprising me.” Her tone was just tender enough that he couldn’t tell if she was still teasing or sincere now.

“I like surprising you,” he murmured, enjoying the new gentleness of their play, an affectionate banter that he could imagine them engaging in at some more luxurious time and place—a tangle of sheets and bare limbs in a sunny room on a lazy afternoon spent lovemaking and….

Han shook his head as a stab of bittersweet reality interrupted his fantasy, replacing his warm buzz with an overwhelming pang of longing.

_What’s the likelihood of that scenario ever happening?_

The odds were poor that they would get out of this mess alive, that he would survive Jabba’s wrath and find her again, that the war would end before it consumed one or both of them, that she would even want him in that way.

_An awful lot of assumptions there, Solo._

As he peered down at Leia again, he liked to think he at least had the answer to that last point. Despite the crazy ride of highs and lows over the past fifteen months, it seemed he’d grown on her. Her meltdown in the cockpit earlier had forced them both to be honest about their feelings and he was relieved by how fast the noncombative atmosphere they’d enjoyed on Ord Mantell had returned. It was a wonder he hadn’t lost her for good after the damage he’d done and it was a testament to her own feelings that she was accepting him back despite it all.

_Take this any further and you’re just going to hurt her again. You know that._

The dark thought was unbidden but enough to make him question the wisdom of fanning the renewed flames between them. The opportunist in him, the part dedicated to baser urges, shrugged off that sort of guilt like a Dewback shook off water drops, but for once in his rather lonely life, there was more at stake. This was about more than just sharing a bunk for a night before jetting off to points unknown. This was about integrity and respect and….

An unintelligible little sound from Leia broke into his thoughts and Han realized she was falling asleep. Bringing his hand up to touch her check in a gentle caress, he suggested, “Hey, why don’t you stretch out right here? Go on, lie down.”

Already half-asleep, she agreed with a murmur and shifted around on the bench without opening her eyes. Arms folding up in front of her, she slid down the curve of the banquette until her head came to rest on his thigh, her young face turned away in profile.

What caused Han to gasp and his heart to leap into a gallop had nothing to do with integrity or respect and everything to do with sudden arousal. Despite the release he’d found earlier in the shower—or maybe because of it— erotic images writhed their way into his mind and he slammed his eyes shut in an attempt to block them out.

_Just think about something else! Come on, you promised to be nice!_

He tackled the past five-year stats of his favorite smashball team before risking another look down.

Leia was without question asleep now, her breathing slow and deep, her beautiful face smoothed out in complete relaxation. It was an unheard-of treat to study her without the risk of agitating her and he took advantage of it. One of her slim wrists rested back against his thigh, the graceful hand curled palm-up in front of her nose. His eyes roamed over the contours of her face, memorizing each attractive feature, locking it away in his mind for what would probably be less-happy moments.

_You love her._

It was an unchecked thought with such clarity that it should have bothered him and yet he smiled. Why else would he find such simple pleasure in studying the shape of her exposed earlobe? He wondered how it would taste and how she would react. He wanted to give her the pleasure she deserved and drive away all those worries and fears that so obviously transformed her. He wanted to show her how it felt to be loved, both for who she was as a woman and what she meant to him. He wanted to shield her from those people who sought to use or hurt her. But above all, he wanted to have a future with her.

_You love her._

Time seemed to stretch out before him as his mind wandered. The ship was quiet around them, his sanctuary. Unable to recall the last time he’d felt so at peace, despite the insanity of recent events, he decided there was no point in thinking too far ahead. Better now to just live in the present and be grateful for what had fallen into his lap quite literally.

At some point, Han dozed off, but something snapped him back awake with a start. After scrubbing his eyes and yawning, he glanced over at the large chrono at the engineering station and was surprised to find more than an hour had passed, leaving only one more before Leia’s shift would come up again.

As if in objection, the princess let out a sound of distress, drawing his attention just in time to watch her forehead crease into a frown as her breathing changed to a faster pace. Han’s hope that she might sleep nightmare-free faded.

Hating to wake her but fearing that whatever tormented her would do the job in any case, he debated only a moment before doing what he did best; he acted on instinct. He touched her face, grazing the backs of his fingers over her exposed cheek as he slipped his other hand under to cradle her head, hoping the comfort might somehow seep into her dreams. “Shhhhhh. I’m right here, Leia. Everything’s okay. You’re safe.” His voice was quiet, a deep whisper.

There was a subtle change in her unconscious expression as Leia’s breathing altered once more. He could see faint worry lines appear as her dark eyebrows drew together, and for a second, he imagined she’d said something as she shifted around, cheek pivoting in his hand.

Encouraged by his success so far, he repeated, “I’m right here. You’re safe.”

“Han…?” There was a child-like tone of surprise in her soft voice.

That was _not_ his imagination and he froze, wondering if she’d awakened after all. But it only took a few more seconds to realize that wasn’t the case. Astounded, he straightened up.

_Now what?_

His only concern had been to stop the nightmare, which he seemed to have accomplished. Never had he imagined being able to tap into her dreams. For an instant, a couple of less-than-noble ideas came to mind, but he rejected them without a second thought; the last thing he wanted to do was damage her trust any further than he had already.

“No,” Leia muttered, “it’s not like that…. No.”

Fascinated, he listened as she seemed to struggle with some internal conversation.

“Don’t go. Please don’t…. I can’t….”

Unanticipated, her words cut through him. Was that what she’d been dreaming about? His leaving to face Jabba? His leaving her?

_You’re reading way too much into the nonsense of a dream that isn’t even yours. It could be about anything, anybody._

Nevertheless, the nakedness of her plea, free of her usual conscious filters, tore at his heart. “I’m right here, Leia.” He fumbled for more words, wondering what he could say to reassure her before the obvious struck him.

“Love you,” he said, the words tumbling out as if they’d been leaning against a locked door for too long.

_It’s okay now. She won’t remember._

But he’d said the words and meant them, and maybe somehow, deep down, it might give her some comfort. “I love you, Leia.”

She moved, burrowing her face into his hand. “’s okay, I’m not hungry.” Her voice was a dreamy whisper as it trailed off, her features smoothing over once more.

Grinning at her sleepy non sequitur, Han watched as she seemed to fall back into a deeper sleep.

_Not exactly the enthusiastic response you expected, was it?_

Leia stirred again, this time rolling onto her back on the bench, one knee drawing up against the side of the acceleration couch. An arm rested across her middle where it gently rose and fell while the other threatened to dangle off the edge of the bench, and her face was now half obscured by the curtain of long chestnut hair, full lips parted just enough to reveal a glimpse of white teeth. That mouth drew his eyes like a magnet and it was all he could do to keep from waking her up with another kiss.

Gratified that maybe his actions had made a difference, he waited to see if the nightmare returned but her expression remained peaceful. He started dozing off again as a long quiet settled over them like a comfortable blanket.


	9. Chapter 9

Leia wasn’t sure which came into her awareness first, the bright overhead light or the lingering odor of stale kaffe. The fact that it wasn’t her morning alarm or a nightmare was an agreeable change of affairs that allowed her the rare pleasure of a sleepy limbo that included a full-body stretch—a long, slow, wonderful process as each limb and muscle awakened at its own pace. However, the idyll was broken when her hand whacked against something hard and unyielding. Eyes snapping open, she found herself staring up in confusion at the underside of a table.

_Oh Goddess, did I really drink that much again?_

The panicked thought dissipated as various facts trickled in: she didn’t feel hung over; she wasn’t back at the university; it wasn’t the day after her Majority party; and those were the distinct sounds of the _Millennium Falcon_ ’s sublight engines as the ship trundled her way toward a distant oasis in the desert of open space. At first, all Leia could recall was collapsing onto her cot in the number three hold, and it took a few moments more before the rest snapped into place—woken by nightmares to wander the corridor and find Han here at the table lost in his own thoughts. She’d been so tired, so physically and emotionally drained, that she must have fallen asleep at his side.

That thought generated a mixture of embarrassment and guilty pleasure.

_You’ve always wondered what it would be like to fall asleep in his arms…._

With a long yawn, she sat up and scratched her head, then craned her neck around until there was a rewarding pop. The dregs of kaffe in the abandoned mug on the table made her look over with longing toward the tiny galley. Without natural sunlight, she had no clue what time it was, but a glance over to the engineering station answered that. It took another long moment to process the chrono display.

“Oh, Kreth!”

The Corellian curse, surely picked up while associating with the criminal element, was out of her mouth in a harsh exhalation. Suddenly wide awake, she shot off of the bench, up the step, and down the stretch of corridor toward the cockpit.

Apologies began tumbling before she’d even cleared the open hatch. “Chewie, I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I just slept through my shift. Somebody should have woken me up!”

Chewbacca swiveled his chair around to look at her as if she were a madwoman, then gave a big shrug. «No worries, Princess. We did not want to disturb you.»

“What? No, no, that won’t do. I’m part of the crew. I messed up and I’m sorry. I can take over right now and—”

«There is no need. I am fine and there is still time remaining before the next change. You will take the next shift.»

Mortified that she’d already committed a breach of shipboard etiquette little more than a day into their journey, Leia had trouble believing he was this cavalier about it.

«This is not a military ship,» Chewie elaborated in a clear attempt to relieve her worries. «We are flexible. We often cover for each other when necessary and that is what I did.»

Despite his statement, Leia couldn’t help feeling derelict in her duties. A glance over at the alarm on the communication’s display confirmed she still had about twenty minutes before it went off again.

«Did you sleep better?»

Looking back, Leia felt embarrassed that he knew of her troubles. Han must have told him. “Yes, thank you. I’m sorry, Chewie. I’m not sure how to make this up to you….”

«There is no need. I am happy to have your help and your company.»

Mollified somewhat, she ducked her head. “Thanks. I promise it won’t happen again.” Debating what to do next, she realized there was one pressing matter that demanded her attention. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

Exiting the cockpit and heading for the galley, she berated herself.

_This is not a good start, Leia. This is what happens when you allow distractions and exhaustion to mix. You’re not on a pleasure cruise and this is not a vacation._

After pausing to start up a new pot of kaffe, she headed for the crew’s quarters to use the fresher. Just as she was about to palm open the door, she froze in place, realizing that Han was probably still asleep in that hedonistic bunk in Goddess only knew what state of undress. Hand dropping, she stared at the door.

_What if he wakes up? Do I want him to wake up?_

Leia shook her head. No, he needed his sleep more than any of them. But she needed the fresher—that was no longer an issue up for debate.

_You can stand here in the hallway arguing with yourself or you can just go in._

Now embarrassed by her own indecision, Leia gently touched the hatch plate as if that might somehow make it open with a quieter hiss. The door whisked aside and she stood still in the hatchway as her eyes went straight to the occupied bunk at the opposite end. His large form was hidden in the shadows of the sleep shelf, not stirring, and it occurred to her that he was likely accustomed to the door opening for the same reason she was there now. The room was lit only by a sliver of dim red light coming from the open fresher door to her right, plus the bright swath of white light spilling in from behind her. Realizing it wasn’t the most polite thing to do, dithering in the doorway, she stepped inside to let the hatch close then walked into the fresher. Closing the door, she switched the overhead light to normal and then paused in front of the small mirror mounted above the sink.

Hair down and a bit wild from sleep, any traces of makeup long gone, she looked quite different from the way she preferred to present herself. In her everyday attempts to look older for credibility’s sake, it was easy to forget her real age, a little more than a year beyond Majority.

Sometimes she felt so old with all the responsibility and guilt weighing down on her soul. Only one person seemed capable of lifting that burden on a consistent basis, calling back the real Leia, and that man was sound asleep on the other side of the door. Han not only reminded her of better times and happier emotions—paradoxically, from before she knew him—but he also emphasized the fact she was a woman in ways no one else could or dared. At some point in her life, she’d skipped right over romance and relationships in her quest to serve a greater cause, but Han threatened to reintroduce all those things, ignoring her protests and drawing her back to her humanity, her individuality, and her emotions. For a long time, she’d resented him for this, for making her feel again, but lately, she’d come to see that he was one of the few people who even cared if she were a whole person. Rieekan, Luke, Chewbacca, Keris…and Han. For someone taking on the evils of a mighty Empire, that was an awfully small circle of friends and threatening to grow smaller….

Recognizing that she was taking too long, Leia hurried through her ablutions. For a fleeting moment, she considered another hot shower—she didn’t think she could ever take too many, not after Hoth—but there was no time. Instead, she grabbed her hairbrush and some pins from the storage cabinet behind the mirror where she’d permanently transferred them after accepting the reality of their predicament. She could braid her hair later while on watch.

More mindful of the light this time, Leia switched it back to the night-vision-friendly red and waited for her eyes to adjust before cracking open the door and stepping out. Her eyes better accustomed to the dark cabin this time, she could make out more details as her gaze once again settled on the occupied bunk.

Han lay on his side, his back to her, with his sheet and light blanket offering just a glimpse of bare shoulders. There had been numerous times when she’d seen him without his shirt—while working in the stifling heat and humidity of the Rebel base on Serricci, when he’d had a tendency to strip it off in front of her to provoke a reaction, although almost never the one he hoped for, or to dress a wound. Seeing him this way now, though, gave her the strongest urge to lie down beside him and run her hand along the smooth plane of his back, feeling the skin and muscle there. Her next natural thought was to wonder what he wore beneath the covers, if anything, and that gave her a nervous thrill.

Blinking back to reality, she spun on her heel and headed toward the door. Chewie would not let her get off so easily if she was late again. Once out in the corridor, she hurried back to the galley to pour a mug of kaffe and assemble a plate of some cheese and dried fruit to take with her.

Finally entering the cockpit once more, she announced, “Okay, I’m ready. Anything I should know?”

«All clear, Princess. She is all yours.» Chewbacca stood and stretched as best he could beneath the low clearance of the cockpit ceiling. «I will be back in the engineering bay if you need anything.» With that, he reset the alarm and exited.

She set the plate and mug on the seat he’d just vacated and glanced around the cabin. Still amazed that Solo trusted her enough to hand the _Falcon_ over like this, Leia never would have imagined being alone at the helm at all, let alone for hours on end. The ship might once have been just another obsolete and nondescript Corellian YT-class freighter that had seen better days, but there was a lot more beneath the scored and pitted surface. The _Falcon_ was Han’s ship and his spirit seemed to inhabit the fast spacecraft, quirky personality and all.

Chewbacca’s statement from the day before, about the faith Han had in her, returned to mind and she mulled over that. She’d always qualified her confidence in him—not in his loyalty or abilities but in his motives. But maybe it was time to show a little more faith as well.

With a wry grin, Leia shook her head and reached down to retrieve her drink. Remaining on her feet but feeling relaxed, she sipped her kaffe and watched the stars. It was amazing what a good night’s sleep could do for one’s perspective.


	10. Chapter 10

"Here, hold this for me.”

Standing beside Han, Leia accepted the rephaser he handed over and watched with mild curiosity as he worked on the rear shield capacitors—or at least that’s what he said they were. Only knowing how to turn them on and off from the cockpit controls, she didn’t have the slightest clue what they looked like.

A day’s worth of assisting with repairs brought home the reality of the extent of damage the _Falcon_ had suffered. It was a miracle none of the life-support systems had failed. Although helping out as best she could with Chewie, and now with Han, she knew that the duo got more done while she was sitting up front. Even so, Leia found the experience both an education in the mind-boggling complexities of a spaceship and a crash course on the two spacers themselves. Both were knowledgeable, innovative, and held a deep affection for their temperamental ship—things she’d already known but, to her regret, had never appreciated.

For instance, their work habits varied a great deal. Chewbacca became quite loquacious, whether it was about the specific repairs they were making (her translating skills faltered on the technical terms, so he would carefully phrase them to accommodate), his family and home, or previous Alliance missions and other adventures. She wasn’t entirely sure the Wookiee was supposed to be telling her some of those stories—not while Han remained so tight-lipped about his past—but she wasn’t about to stop him, either.

Han, on the other hand, tended more toward little conversation while actually working. Sometimes, he would become so focused that they remained silent for long minutes at a time. During those lulls, she would catch herself wondering how it would feel to be the center of his undivided attention like that, and then she would question her own sanity for feeling jealous of a ship. But when he did talk, he would stop to look right at her, giving her a taste of what it could be like. Their topics leaned toward current events, culture, and business within the Rebellion, but there were other things she wished the man would talk about—things that still needed to be addressed between them. Unsure of how to bring them up, she was even less sure that she wanted to know the answers.

Another discovery was how much she enjoyed helping Han in his work. Among other things, it gave her an excuse to study him up close: how his strong hands were careful but confident at their task, how his concentration caused little lines around the corners of his eyes, how a smile transformed his face whenever the ship responded positively to whatever he’d done. If he noticed when her gaze would drift from matters at hand to him, he didn’t mention it, and that just seemed to encourage her daydreaming. Sometimes, they stood so close that she could smell the faint trace of soap and cologne mixed with his more distinctive masculine scent, teasing her senses. There was also an almost-constant urge to touch him now—something she struggled against because there was still so much work to be done. Whenever he bent low to work on some circuitry or mechanism, it was all she could do to keep from digging her fingers into his thick hair or running her hand across his solid shoulders. Until now, she’d never felt an impulse to massage anyone, but that was what kept filling her mind as she watched him once again reach back with a grimace to rub his neck; she suspected he would approve, no matter how inexpert she was at it.

“Okay, give me the number-three hydrospanners.”

Leia squatted down next to the tray at her feet to dig through the loose tools until she found the one he needed then passed it up. Using the excuse that he might call for another tool right away, she decided to remain in that position and took advantage of the angle to let her eyes rove up his tall frame. This morning, he’d switched to an old work shirt, its sleeves shoved up past his elbows. Also gone was his low-slung holster and blaster, which now hung, for quick access, from a peg near the entrance ramp.

_How strange he looks without that thing._

Star-tanned and lean, he attracted her in ways she wasn’t sure she understood. His exposed throat fascinated her, as did the musculature of his bare forearms, and the way his upper arms bulged in the shirt sleeves, and when his eyes crinkled like they were right now as he looked down at her with that knowing grin….

“Anything I can help you with?” he interrupted in a smooth purr.

Snapping out of her reverie, Leia felt herself flush hot. She straightened up, brushing her hands while trying to find something to say that wasn’t incriminating. “I was just thinking….”

“I noticed. Must’ve been pretty good to make you blush like that.”

None of the old retorts, the usual denials and mean sarcasm, felt appropriate anymore; all she had left was either truth or deflection and she wasn’t ready for the truth yet. “Why did Chewie say that you knew the weaknesses of Corellian KDY ships better than most within the Imperial Navy?”

Clearly not anticipating such a random question, Han’s head reared back. “He said _what_?”

“I asked him how you two knew about that blind spot on the Star Destroyer. He said you knew the Kuat Drive Yards’ ships better than anyone.”

Han’s features clouded over as if a summer storm were passing through.

Realizing too late that she might have stumbled across a taboo subject from his past, Leia backpedaled. “We were just talking. I only asked because it’s a good weakness to know about…. Was that the first time you’ve exploited it?”

Solo continued staring at her.

_He’s doing damage control again, isn’t he?_

“No, that was the first time. But it’s not something I want to advertise or else they’ll fix it.”

Nodding, she said, “Right. My lips are sealed.”

His gaze dropped to the lips in question and stayed there, as if mulling over ways to open them.

_This is ridiculous!_

She was blushing again, and it didn’t help when he leaned against a bulkhead brace, his narrow hips slanting at a distracting angle as he gave off that laid-back, cheeky vibe that got to her every time.

Not missing her reaction, Han began an idle tapping of the hydrospanners against the palm of his opposite hand. “What else did he tell you?”

In an effort to appear nonchalant, Leia shrugged and answered. “That you’d won the _Falcon_ in a sabacc game.”

“That was no secret.”

“He said you cheated.”

That maddening smile was back, although she couldn’t tell if it was due to fond memories of his own escapades or amusement at her lame attempt to redirect his attention. “I just cheated better. Lando thought he had the game rigged but I figured out his system.”

Blinking at him, her pleasant buzz fizzled out. “Lando? The _same_ Lando?”

Han had the decency to look abashed, some of his cockiness fading. “Yeah.”

With a heavy sigh, Leia closed her eyes. She was starting to wonder if Solo’s past was nothing more than an endless supply of unhappy people, and if, someday, she’d be just another old acquaintance with a complaint. In any case, now was not the time to be dependent on one of those people—not when they had so few options.

“Hey, it was a long time ago. Like I said, he was perfectly happy cheating _me_. I just beat him at his own game.”

“Well, in that case, I’m sure all’s forgiven.” The sarcastic comment slipped out before she could check it and Han looked on the verge of snapping out a remark to match, but then seemed to stop himself. Not wishing to start an argument, she was grateful for his self-control. “I hope he doesn’t hold a grudge,” she added in a softer one.

“Yeah, me too.” Han’s thoughts were masked once more.

Not for the first time, Leia wondered what he wasn’t saying. Moments like these served as reminders of just how little she really knew him. The rare missions they’d carried out together, along with the calmer pauses between, had left her with the impression he was a more honorable, reliable, and optimistic person than he would admit—that under all the bravado and cynicism was, in essence, a good man. Of course, he could also be overconfident and irritable, but something in that blend still appealed to her. He’d also proved loyal to those few he considered friends, and had little tolerance for fools or incompetence—all qualities she appreciated because she shared them.

And yet his life before their meeting was a mystery—not so much a closed book but rather one missing entire chapters. This had forced her to piece together the little bits she overheard of him roaming from one corner of the galaxy to another, enjoying a freedom her younger self envied. But the adult in her recognized a starker truth; his had to be a lonely life at times. There must have been hardships, betrayals, and bitter disappointments along the way to shape the cynic he’d become. Could a man be an optimist and a skeptic at the same time? She hadn’t thought so until meeting Han, but, as usual, he defied the rules. A mystery and a contradiction, he was a challenge that she got the feeling she could spend the rest of her life trying to figure out….

“You’re thinking again,” Han broke in on her thoughts.

Leia shook her head and lowered her gaze to study the tops of her boots. “It’s nothing.”

_You just saw his reaction when you touched too close to his past. You know so little about this man. Why are you so ready to hand over your heart?_

Despite being unable to think of a single good answer to that ultimate question, here she stood, wishing he would open up just a little bit so she could invest everything.

Han straightened up and dropped the hydrospanners into the tray on the floor, then closed the distance between them with one step. “I _know_ you, Sweetheart. It’s not ‘nothing.’”

Leia wavered with each breath, his body so close she could feel his heat. It would take no more than to lean forward to touch him, and she desperately wanted to do that, but instead she closed her eyes. “But I don’t know _you_.”

A moment later, there was a finger under her chin, tipping her face up toward his, and then a thumb stroked along her cheekbone. The gesture was simple but his gaze drew her in like a tractor beam.

“You know what’s important.”

Something within her wanted to settle for that, wanted to let go of all her doubts and just accept his comment at face value, but her instinct for self-preservation wouldn’t allow it. “But…that’s not _fair_ , Han. My life…my _entire_ life is in the public domain.” She pointed in the direction of the cockpit. “You can pull my name up on that damned datapad and know everything about me. My grade average in the university. What I did on my eleventh birthday. My favorite color. Everything! But all I know about you is what little you and Chewie tell me, or what came from the arrest and inspection records Intelligence dug up while hacking the Imperial Internal Security files. And even _that_ hits a wall ten years back—anything before then is a complete blank.”

“You read my records?”

She swore Han’s eyes twinkled, and old habits made her stiffen in defense. “Of course I read them. That’s my job.”

“Of course,” he agreed with an exaggerated nod. “Convenient.”

Her thoughts turned murderous.

_I’m trying to be serious about whatever the hell this is between us and he still wants to tease!_

The texture of his thumb as it rubbed against her cheek again, his fingers still along the back of her neck, caused a warm effervescence to spread up her spine, making the fine hairs stand up. It wasn’t helping. “You really are obnoxious sometimes,” she pointed out in a softer tone.

“What about the rest of the time?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Who’s changing the subject? It’s still about me, right?”

She narrowed her eyes, now beginning to feel genuine anger. Was he incapable of being serious just once?

“Hey, I _told_ you I’d give you access to the ship’s computer. It’s all there, both the official and the real logs. Weren’t you paying attention?”

That statement made Leia pause, stealing some of her momentum. Lost in the emotional upheaval of the days before, she had forgotten.

Han shrugged. “They’re just the ship’s logs, not journals, but it’s something. As for the rest…if you really need to know something, you could just try asking. But it’s not that interesting.”

“Yes, well…I’ll be the judge of that.” Embarrassed, she offset the admission by lifting her head to a regal tilt.

_If there’s going to be any sort of future in this, I need to start owning up to the fact that I’m interested in him that way._

Solo’s expression was suddenly an odd mix of mirth and mischief. “My favorite color is green, same as yours.”

In spite of herself, Leia felt a smile tease up a corner of her mouth, reminded of how much she’d liked that dark green shirt he’d worn that first day back on Ord Mantell and, in particular, how it had complemented his eyes. What a shame the shirt had been lost, abandoned along with the slinky black dress he’d given her as a Majority gift.

Only then did it dawn on her that at some point, he must have actually researched her extensively to know her favorite color like that. Her stomach flip-flopped.

No doubt enjoying the parade of emotions across her face, Solo’s grin widened. “I have no clue what I did for my eleventh birthday but it probably got me in trouble.”

_Leave it to Han to miss the point._

“That wasn’t what I—”

“I attended the Naval Academy for two years before I was kicked out.”

Having always suspected a formal advanced military-style education of some sort, this revelation didn’t surprise Leia. Before she could inquire further, though, Han went on with the affected air of someone doing a formal interview.

“I enjoy the occasional smashball game, long walks on a beach, a good bottle of wine, and watching you blush…. Yeah, just like that.”

Leia rolled her eyes. “All right, I think that’s about—”

“And I _love_ it when you do that.”

Mystified, she froze. “Do what?”

“Roll your eyes like that. It drives me crazy.”

It was obvious she was losing control of this conversation. “I give up, this is—”

“Want to know what my grade average was?”

Rolling her eyes again, she shook her head. “You’re insane. I don’t know why I—”

As if she’d pushed him too far, Han’s reaction was swift and decisive. He swooped in and kissed her. It was solid, affectionate, and over before she had a chance to do more than close her eyes. The distance was now gone between them, even as he leaned back enough to gauge her reaction.

“I _still_ think you’re insane.”

His look grew determined, as if he were reassessing the challenge, then he bowed down to kiss her again, this time much more slowly.

_Maybe I’m insane, too_ , was the barely coherent thought that went through Leia’s mind before her misgivings dissolved for a little while.


	11. Chapter 11

It was late, more than halfway into her eight-hour sleeping block, and yet Leia found herself wandering the circular corridor of the _Falcon_ once more, like a specter rattling around in search of resolution, looking for someone or something to ease her loneliness. She’d slept more this round than the last time she’d been in her cot, but the nightmares had returned to leave her chilled and aching for companionship. Luck was not with her tonight when she discovered there was no convenient and charming Corellian holding vigil in the lounge to distract her this time. Instead, the acceleration couch was abandoned, the top of the holochess table bare. Rather than a rumbling voice to cancel out the ones from her dreams, there was just the soft hum of the environmental systems and the sublight engines. The ship was so still that her own soft footsteps on the metal deck plates echoed around her, the only sensation of movement in the main hold coming from the occasional blink of colored indicator lights at the unmanned engineering station off to the side.

With each circuit around the ship, the princess found herself pausing outside the bunk room door, resisting an inner voice that whispered it would be okay to seek Han’s company like she had the night before.

_Don’t be so naive—approaching him in his bunk is inviting more than just conversation._

There was no doubt that he would welcome her. He would hold her and soothe her fears; he would protect her like he had so many times before. But he’d also propositioned her countless instances, almost from the day they’d met, often quite seriously, and she couldn’t reasonably expect him to stop with a hug anymore, not when she wasn’t even sure she wanted him to stop.

All this time, she had rejected the idea of sleeping with Han as an unneeded distraction, an indulgent and impractical fantasy that would be foolish in the end…but of late, her entire world had spun around and those reasons only barely outweighed her deeper desires.

She continued walking as all the conflicting obligations awaiting them at the end of their journey swirled through her head. At the passageway to the cockpit, she paused with the temptation of joining Chewbacca and using him as a sounding board since he knew Solo better than anyone—but then she resumed on her path. Chewie didn’t deserve enduring the angst-ridden ramblings of a confused and lovesick woman, nor being put in the position of compromising his close friendship with Han.

Luke came to mind next. Concern over his wellbeing never left her, but she missed him in particular tonight. Yet even though she considered him a close friend, this was a topic she’d never felt comfortable bringing up with him. She knew Luke’s crush on her had quickly morphed into mutual fondness—if there was any truth to the rumors Han spread about Luke’s escapades with a certain buxom med-tech, he was well over his infatuation. Yet there was still a lingering sense of something profound between them, something she purposely avoided examining. Those intense feelings didn’t necessarily conflict with how she felt about Han, but they muddied the waters just the same.

No, the person Leia missed most tonight was Lieutenant Aldric, the only close female friend in her adult life. Worry about Keris’s safety following the battle on Hoth compounded the loneliness. Leia’s rocky relationship with Han had become a pet topic of Keris’s, and the older woman was sure to have an opinion on this matter. Then again, it was easy to guess what Keris would say—in fact, what she’d been saying for the past year: Leia could do a lot worse than Han Solo; Quit fighting the obvious; Life’s too short to squander rare opportunities for happiness, even temporary ones; Everyone takes a risk in love. That kind of wisdom came from years of experience and Leia appreciated it as such, but her own situation just seemed so much more complicated than most.

What she really needed was someone to either talk her out of what she was contemplating or to tell her to go for it—but just do _something_. In matters both public and private, she always strove to be thorough, calculating, a perfectionist…but it was a learned behavior that often rankled against her nature, that of trusting her instincts and making quick decisions. Her tutors had called it reckless, that urge towards action, but it had served her well more often than not. And what did her heart say now…?

_I wouldn’t stop him. If Han asked me now, I wouldn’t say no._

The revelation caused her to halt in her worn path down the steps into the lounge.

The most significant obstacles were still between them, foremost being the reluctant understanding that their time might be finite. Was she willing to settle for a romance with a built-in deadline? Still, the remaining shard of a once-optimistic young woman held out a whisper of hope: What if Han successfully paid off Jabba and came back? All her life she’d been a gambler of sorts, willing to accept the risks if the rewards were worth it—and if there was anyone she was willing to bet on surviving the odds, it was Han Solo. How he made her feel with each smile and soul-stirring kiss was a reward on which she would be wagering everything.

Whether or not she acted on them, her feelings for Han were present and real. What advantage could be gained by denying them any longer? Which would be harder to deal with—loving and losing him, or always yearning and wondering what might have been? A day ago, she had feared the loss more, but now she wasn’t so sure. At least one option had the potential for leaving happier memories.

_“Trust your feelings”_ was one of Luke’s favorite sayings. Leia sighed at the absurdity; he would no doubt be appalled to know she was using that as a rationalization for sleeping with his best friend.

Leia’s circuitous route brought her back once again to the bunk room hatch where she stared at it for a long moment, then glanced at the slim chrono strapped to her wrist. There were still three hours until her next shift. Tired though she felt, the prospect of going back to her bleak cabin alone held no appeal, while the restful sleep of the night before, spent in Han’s company, tantalized her. Maybe a compromise seemed in order tonight. Maybe she could find a middle ground where she could stop to test the waters and find some decent sleep in the bargain.

Making her decision, she double-checked the recurring alarm on her chrono, set to go off in time to relieve Chewbacca in the cockpit, and switched it to vibrate-only. With a steadying breath, she opened the hatch and stopped just inside the room as it closed, waiting while her eyes adjusted to the dim red light escaping from the fresher compartment.

Taking another symbolic step, Leia chose one of the spare bunks. She reached to draw back the covers, sat on the edge and kicked her boots off to the side, then paused, allowing her gaze to settle on the occupied bunk adjacent to hers. Han was sleeping on his stomach, head turned away, with one arm stretched out beneath his pillow.

Close enough now that she could hear his deep breathing, it was so easy to imagine how it would be to lie beside him, to fit up against him and allow his strong body to shield her from the rest of the universe. Even while his protective streak chafed against her independent nature at times, it was a comforting fact. His mercenary attitude had been her convenient excuse to keep him at arm’s length, but she felt ashamed to admit she took his steady interest for granted. She knew the pittance the Alliance paid him didn’t warrant the risks he took. Despite their occasional squabbles, how many times had he fought beside her, defended her, and sacrificed more than anyone could reasonably expect for a woman who at best treated him as just a friend and at worst…? It was clear that his motivation wasn’t greed or lust—it seemed something much deeper and far more forgiving.

_Is that what love is like?_

Hands at her sides, she gripped the edge of the bunk and squeezed her eyes closed.

_You had to go there, didn’t you? Love?_

There was no sense dodging around the fact anymore. If any hint of doubt had remained of her feelings for him, it was silenced by the keen longing that overwhelmed her now, being so close and yet apart.

He’d demonstrated often enough through actions if not words how he felt, and for too long she’d struggled from one justification to another to deny the truth, but it was time to be honest.

Reaching to untie the drawstring of her loose pants, she slipped them off and laid them at the foot of her bunk. Still in his large shirt, she stretched out on her side under the covers and propped up the pillow. From that position, she watched the still figure in the adjoining bunk until at some point her eyes closed.


	12. Chapter 12

Mug of steaming kaffe in hand and feeling exceptionally upbeat, Han strode down the short corridor leading to the cockpit.

_If that unmade bunk next to yours is any indication, things are finally going your way. Whatever you’re doing, just keep doing it!_

“Morning, Leia,” he called out as the cockpit hatch slid open. If that sounded more chipper than was decent for this early in the day, who could blame him?

Leia had been concentrating on the comp screen in front of his usual seat. From the way she jumped and quickly reached to clear the screen, he guessed she was doing a little digging.

“Good morning.” Relaxing back in the pilot’s chair, she glanced at her chrono. “You’re early.”

“We’ve got some business to talk about.” Dropping into the copilot’s seat, he triggered the ship’s intercom. “Chewie, get up here.” Flipping the link back off, he pivoted and gazed at Leia with a pleased grin. Despite her long hair being bound yet again, the lack of makeup, and the unflattering clothing and snow boots, she looked awfully good to him this morning.

She remained silent, but there was obvious curiosity in her expression and maybe a little trepidation, as if she expected him to broach the subject of her whereabouts last night. Then she added an arched eyebrow and tilt of her head in what he swore was a silent challenge.

_I don’t know what’s gotten into her since yesterday but I like it!_

They’d had staring matches in the past—mostly angry battles of will—but maybe this was the start of a new and better game. As if reading his thoughts, her other eyebrow rose, communicating feigned innocence of whatever he was implying by his grin.

_Careful there, Solo. She’ll be fierce competition without that embarrassment handicap._

Their peaceful little standoff was interrupted as Chewbacca arrived. «What’s the matter?»

“I’m calling a meeting because I’ve got a decision to make and I figured I should put it up to a vote.”

“How democratic of you,” Leia mused, easily fielding the lightweight scowl he tossed her way.

“I’m doing this for your benefit, Your Worship, so listen up. We’ve got a choice—we can either keep doing these damned shifts the rest of the way to Bespin, or we can stop the ship and try to repair whatever’s wrong with the sensor array.”

Leia finally broke eye contact to glance up at Chewie before returning to him. “How long do you think that will take?”

Han shrugged. “No idea. Won’t know until we’re out there. Could be a simple fix or it could take days. Worst case, we tack on a few extra days for nothing if it still doesn’t work…. Then again, if we can get the sensors up and running, we can switch to autopilot and quit the four-hour rotations.”

Leia nodded, appearing to appreciate why he sought their input rather than just make a decision as captain—this was comfort versus tighter rationing. “Do we have enough supplies?”

“For a few extra days? I think so.”

“Then I vote we at least stop to look. I don’t like flying blind for so long in this region.”

They both looked up to Chewbacca, who gave a big nod. «I agree.»

Han slapped his hands on his knees and then stood. “That’s settled. Let’s get to work.”

“Han…?”

The audible and uncharacteristic unease in her voice made him stop short and turn back to her in concern.

“Do you need my help out there?”

Meeting her look, he was abruptly reminded of her dislike for spacewalks. Hell, dislike was too mild a term for the panic attack he’d witnessed weeks ago on Ord Mantell. That she’d worked up the courage to offer assistance now despite her dread gave him a rush of affection.

_She’s a real trouper, this one._

“Nope, I need you to stay right here and test the systems when we tell you to, and keep an eye on things. You know where the quad cannon controls are—don’t be afraid to use them if anyone drops by.”

With clear relief, she accepted the assignment with a nod.

“Go take a break if you need one, Sweetheart. Then me and Chewie’ll get suited up.”

“Okay.”

She rose to her feet beside him, intending to pass by and follow the Wookiee out. Acting on an impulse, though, Han caught her arm and gently pulled her back until she butted up against him. As her face turned up to his in surprised curiosity, he took advantage of that to plant a kiss on those irresistible lips.

His intention was to end it quickly before Chewie could notice her absence, but Leia seemed to have other plans. Just as fast, she gripped his shoulders and her mouth pressed against his with a passion that caught him off guard. More than happy to leave her at the controls, he savored the feeling of her accelerating things. She held him close a little while longer, her lips just brushing his, before finally stopping. When her eyes opened, she searched his face for something, as if she’d just administered a test and was analyzing the results. Maybe she had.

_What exactly happened last night and how the hell did I sleep through it?!_

His tactic for the past year had been to keep her off-balance with escalating innuendos and compliments and attention, an enjoyable game he hoped would someday tip her in the direction of his bunk, but he got the distinct impression she’d just flipped it on him.

“You’d better—” he started, loath to break the mood but dreading the inevitable criticism from Chewbacca if they were caught fooling around with kissing techniques while the Wookiee waited to get on with repairs.

“I’d better…” she agreed, releasing him. With obvious reluctance, she stepped away and palmed open the hatch.

Watching her petite figure recede until the cockpit door closed, Han drew a deep breath and then let it out in a sharp huff.

_Why do I suddenly get the feeling that four weeks won’t be nearly enough?_


	13. Chapter 13

Working in the hostile environment of deep space was never an easy prospect, all the more so when it came to conducting delicate repairs. Corralling tools and disassembled ship components was a challenge, and the awkward space gloves compounded the problem. Unlike many beings (Leia Organa included) who found the experience disorienting or frightening, Han enjoyed the sensation of weightlessness out in the endless expanse of the open stars, but even he was exhausted after working in it for most of the day.

Reminded again of that rare moment of terror in Leia’s eyes when they’d been forced to make an unorthodox departure via a deep-space construction site back on Ord Mantell, he grinned at the thought of how she’d handled the situation, and how she’d planned and executed an ambush that took out both bounty hunters to save his hide. That was no small feat and the display of sheer guts had left an impression on him.

_Just another reason why you like her, Buddy. Even in distress, that damsel is still dangerous._

Then again, Leia had been leaving a lot of impressions on him lately, including her fingerprints during that last encounter. What he had intended as a little kiss, giving her something to ponder while she manned the cockpit alone, she had hijacked and turned into—

«Are you just going to stare at it with that stupid grin on your face, or are you going to test it so we can go back inside?»

Chewbacca’s query echoed inside Han’s helmet, startling him out of his reverie.

«Now is not the time to be daydreaming,» Chewie added for emphasis.

Aware that their mikes were open and channeling through the cockpit, Han threw an irritated look at his copilot. “Shut up, Chewie. I’m nearly done here, all right?”

«Good. I’m getting hungry.»

“You’re always hungry.”

«All the more reason to wrap this up.»

Han finished reconnecting the power line within the exposed innards at the base of the sensor dish and, with the Wookiee’s help, they remounted the hull plate. With their magnetized boots and tether lines keeping them from drifting away from the _Falcon_ , they took a few steps back to eye their handiwork.

“Leia, you still there?” Han called out next.

There was a brief silence before her voice responded. “I’m here.”

“Okay, power up the short-range system.”

“Powering up…now.”

Holding his breath, Han watched for some indication of failure. The fact that nothing visible happened was a good sign in this case. “Any readings?”

There was another pause over the intercom before her pleased voice filled his ears again. “Yes, I’ve got both of you on the screen, and nothing else registering.”

“Great. Now try the long-range system.”

“Powering up…now.”

A moment later, the sensor dish rotated on its pivot mount, completing a full circle. Han let out a heartfelt sigh; it was a good day aboard the _Falcon_ when nothing shorted out or blew up.

“I’m getting long-range readings, and we’re all clear. It’s working!” There was obvious relief in Leia’s tone.

“That’s it. Come on, Chewie, we’re done out here.”

Minutes later, they were back inside the ship and stripping off their envirosuits.

“Hey, Buddy, what do you say we have a real meal, table for three?” Han asked as he began to stow away the gear in a compartment in the corridor where they stood.

The Wookiee gave a big toothy grin. «Give me an hour. I already know what to make.»

Laughing as his partner trotted off in the direction of the galley, Han finished packing away the equipment before heading for the cockpit. When he arrived, he found Leia seated at the copilot’s station, still watching the readouts for any sign of malfunction. “Everything seems to be checking out okay,” she reported.

“That should make our lives easier,” he summed up as he dropped into his well-worn seat and fired up the sublight engines. “Could’ve been a lot worse.”

“Finally some good news,” Leia granted with a smile. “I assume you’re still going to leave Threepio switched off?”

Han shot her a look of disbelief as he finished activating the autopilot. “Do you miss him?”

“No, not really,” she demurred.

While Leia was usually accompanied by Threepio, he swore there was a tussle going on between her and Luke as to who owned the obnoxious protocol droid, each convinced the other should take him.

_Just my luck she had to lose the last round._

“Chewie’s gone back to make us a proper meal for a change.”

The appreciative groan Leia let out was something right out of one of his fantasies and Han shifted in his seat in sudden discomfort.

Oblivious, she went on. “That sounds wonderful. Does he need help?”

“Nah, he prefers cooking alone. Anyway, he pretty much takes up that galley all by himself.”

With a smile, Leia sank back and folded her legs up to one side beneath her. Seeming to have run out of small talk, she ran her elegant fingers along an armrest, lost in thought. He loved watching her when she was like this—meditative and beautiful in repose as she searched for a way to bring up whatever was on her mind. While not always thrilled with the topics she broached, he nevertheless enjoyed the buildup.

Leia was a petite bundle of strengths and weaknesses that fascinated him without end. Beyond her looks and sharp wit, there was a deeper mystery of what made her tick. For some reason, he wanted to understand and become a part of what made her complete. He wanted to claim that heart she shielded so carefully from everyone. He wanted to bolster and fuel that force of character within her in the same way she seemed to drive him to prove his worth.

_And that’s what you’ve been doing all this time? Proving you’re worth all the trouble?_

He imagined he could see it whenever he helped out with a sticky mission, scored a bit of classified Imperial information or much needed supplies, or managed to save a life; her gratitude and affection and respect, all the things she struggled to express, had made staying with the Rebellion so easy to tolerate.

Leia ended the silence. “We need to talk…about what happens later.”

And there it was—the ultimate topic. The one he dreaded most, the one that always seemed to haunt her eyes whenever he looked into them. He tried to counter it with his usual levity by asking, “What? After we eat?”

Leia frowned and he realized she wasn’t about to let him off that easy. “Please, Han…I need you to be serious. After we reach Bespin.”

Staring at her for a long moment, he felt his heart drop down somewhere in the vicinity of his boots. For the past fifteen months, he’d patiently—well, not always patiently—waited for her, and so often it had seemed that just when he was ready to give up on her, some little hint of what he sought most would emerge to revive his determination. After all that time and investment, he’d begun to see dividends while on Ord Mantell; the interest had clearly compounded when she’d moved into his cabin last night, and today he’d dared to hope it would finally pay off. But this was her test for him now and he was about to fail it.

“I need to know, Han,” she prompted, and he couldn’t translate her expression because he’d never seen it before. It was somewhere between optimism and yearning and dread, if that were possible. “I think I deserve a serious answer.”

Han swallowed but held her gaze. “Once you’re back safe with the Alliance, I need to take care of business with Jabba. You know that.”

“Safe,” she echoed under her breath, mocking the notion. “So you just drop me off and I never see you again?”

The bluntness of her wording, the brutal finality of it, made Han wince. “Not if I can help it.”

“Okay, then tell me what you mean by that exactly.”

He’d rarely seen her like this, not with him, and certainly never about them—this was the unrelenting politician and Rebel leader he’d usually preferred to avoid.

_She’s going to make you spell it out, Pal. Even the parts you don’t want to think about._

“It means I can’t make any promises, Leia. I’ll come back if I can, but there’s a Death Mark on my head. I’ll be lucky to get within a parsec of Jabba before somebody starts taking potshots at me.”

Her reaction was visible: the shortened breath, the crease across her smooth forehead, the clenching of her jaw, and the thinning of those full lips. At once it pained him to see her anguish and yet thrilled him to know her feelings were so strong.

“With any luck, they’ll remember I’m worth more alive.”

“And then what?”

Han almost laughed. “Then I’ll have to beg the Hutt for mercy. Try to cut a deal. Find a way to make it up to him. Hope he doesn’t have me killed outright for being such a pain in his ass for two years.”

“And then what?”

This time he did laugh; it was the only way he knew how to deal with the bleakness of his situation. “Sweetheart, he’s a crime lord. They aren’t the forgiving type.”

Leia shook her head. “Everyone has their price, Han. I’m not talking about forgiveness—I’m talking about bargaining. What if we can get him to see reason?”

_We?_

“I don’t know, but I don’t have those kinds of credits, anyway.”

“Humor me.”

Shrugging, he already knew she wouldn’t like his answer. “I’d probably have to go back to work for him and pay it off that way if I can’t come up with the money. If that happens, I don’t know when I’d be able to come back. It’d probably mean going back to running Kessel spice, and then it’d only be a matter of time before I’m caught again. That ain’t exactly a blue milk run. I wouldn’t bet on any of those odds.”

He could see she was in full problem-solving mode now, her look intense and resolute, and that didn’t bode well. Whenever she got that look, it meant he was in for either trouble or more work, often times both.

“Then I’m coming with you.”

Stunned, Han could do little more than stare at her, unable to believe she would volunteer to do something so crazy for someone like him.

“The hell you are! Kest, you’re as bad as the Kid! You aren’t going anywhere near the Hutt. I’ll drop you off where you’ll be safe and—”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Captain.” Leia’s voice was calm and cool, as if she’d anticipated his reaction from the start. “If you think I’ll go back to the Alliance and quietly forget all about this while some gangster has you executed, you’d better think again.”

“It’s too dangerous. You don’t know what the Hutt is like, what he’d do to you if he—”

“I’ve faced worse. And please, tell me again about how safe I am with the Alliance—I never get tired of hearing that.”

Her sarcasm bit deep. The last thing he wanted to do was argue with her but he felt his expression hardening. “This is why I didn’t want to get involved in the first place. I was already a marked man the day I met you.”

Leia blinked at him as his first clear hit registered. Looking on the verge of either tears or fury, her face reddened in a way that gave him no pleasure, yet her voice remained icy, a tone he knew all too well. “But you did get involved. So you can either sit here regretting it or you can let me help you now.”

“It’s too dangerous….” Feeling very weary all of a sudden, he brushed a hand across his face. He realized he wasn’t going to win this one, not like this. Her perseverance was a trait he’d praised as often as cursed and he knew she would match him on every point. “Look, I don’t want you getting hurt because of something stupid out of my past. What good would that do anybody?”

“It could save your life…and what about Chewie? It could save his, too. That’s good enough for me.”

Stunned into momentary silence, he tried to absorb the concept of someone so important to so many people being willing to sacrifice everything for a couple of petty smugglers. It made no sense in his world. “I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.” For just an instant, it felt as though voicing the thought caused something to clamp around his heart, as if he were giving Fate ideas.

“Then you know how I felt that night on Hoth when you went out after Luke. They kept the shield doors open long past regulation and then came to me for the final decision to close them, as if I had any choice. I nearly lost you both. Do you have _any_ idea how that felt?”

He heard a crack in her voice, although it might have been his imagination. “You did what you had to do,” he said. “That wasn’t your fault, and neither is this. But what happened on Ord Mantell _was_ my fault and that’s not acceptable. I need to end this before some bounty hunter comes after you just to get at me, or worse yet, recognizes you. I’ll be damned if I deliver you up for your own bounty.”

“But I can help you! I have a lot of influence and resources, and I’m good with a blaster if it comes to that.”

“Leia….”

“You’d already be in Jabba’s hands if it weren’t for me,” she pointed out with the same lethal accuracy she used to wield said blaster. Her leveraging of the events of their near-disaster weeks ago on Ord Mantell was an approach he hadn’t predicted.

_Idiot. There was a reason she was already a member of the Imperial Senate before reaching Majority._

Leia’s expression changed, softening as he watched, and for the first time in their argument, her eyes dropped away from his. “We make a good team, Han. You know that.”

And just like that, Han was abruptly disarmed in this battle of wills. That was the first time she’d ever spoken of the two of them as being anything other than acquaintances or business associates. This wasn’t the royal “we” she often hid behind whenever referring to her feelings about him; this was personal, just the two of them, an acknowledgment of something more. He didn’t know whether to whoop for joy or bang his head against the console at the atrocious timing. The gods clearly hated him. “Yeah, I know.”

“Then at least think about it. We can solve this problem together. We’ve solved tougher ones.”

She did it again, singling out the two of them from the rest of the universe and emphasizing the fact. He loved the resonance of it, the sound of hope in her simple statement, as if there was nothing they couldn’t handle if they approached it together. Where had that come from? He didn’t know what kind of epiphany she’d experienced the night before, but it left him scrambling to catch up.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

She looked up, the hint of a smile wiping away some of her obvious discontent.

“Promise me.”

It wasn’t her persistence so much as her method that surprised him.

_She’s so good that you just lost the fight and haven’t even felt the knockout punch yet._

“I promise I’ll think about it.”

Her dark eyes narrowed for a second, as if assessing his sincerity, but then she relented, appearing satisfied with the truce.

_Don’t kid yourself, Buddy. She’s more tenacious than a Voorcat. This isn’t over yet._

“How much is left to be done?” Leia shifted topics like a gust of wind shifting direction on Hoth.

“What, the repairs?”

Leia nodded in answer.

Taking a moment to catalog things in his head, his eyes shifted over to the clear canopy to his left. “Aside from the stuff we can’t do anything about until we’re docked in an atmosphere, or the hyperdrive, I’d say nothing vital. That’s not counting the stuff I can’t afford or the stuff I’ve been meaning to do but just never had the time to get around to….”

“Time probably isn’t an issue right now. I guess this is your chance.”

That brought his thoughts around to the weeks that still lay ahead and he realized Leia was right. This was his chance in several ways—to tinker with his first love, but, more importantly, to enjoy the unanticipated gift of sharing Leia’s company, without interference, one last time. Maybe he was too hasty in judging the gods and this was a big favor after all. Maybe his luck had finally changed.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he murmured. Their eyes met for the longest moment and he liked to imagine she was thinking the same thing—that perhaps this was their last chance to set things right after all the misfires and wasted opportunities.


	14. Chapter 14

After over three days of almost nonstop repairs and long shifts at watch since blasting off from Hoth, Han had declared the remainder of the day as a celebration of sorts. The mood was infectious and Leia found herself caught up in the liberation of a relaxing evening. She had learned early on in their acquaintance that both spacers were tolerable cooks, and Chewbacca did not disappoint tonight. With the remnants of their meal still spread out on top of the holochess table, the dishes abandoned long ago, their conversation had continued to weave from topic to topic, jumping from snippets of news off the datapad to frivolous rumors floating around the Alliance. The princess luxuriated in their company.

At the moment Leia was watching in amusement as Han regaled them with a story he swore was true after the topic had segued into the alleged deviances of former prominent Imperial senators, and now she couldn’t help grimacing. Up until tonight, she’d managed to block those sorts of rumors from her mind; she’d had the misfortune of butting heads with some of those same senators during her short tenure. She also knew that Han was cleaning up the anecdote for her benefit and the subtle chivalry made her glow, even though the tale was still bawdy enough to leave them all bent over with laughter.

“I’ve heard worse about him,” she confessed, caught up in the moment as she gave an exaggerated shudder.

Seated beside her on the banquette, Han gave her a double-take before prodding her with an elbow. “I think the princess is holding out on us, Chewie.”

«I think you’re right.»

“Oh no,” she protested, snapping back to her senses and holding up a hand. “There is no way I’m repeating it. I’m still trying to wipe it from my memory….”

Chewbacca let out a hoot of encouragement, scenting a juicy story, and Han nudged her again. “Come on, give.”

Puckering her lips and gauging her audience, Leia slid out of the curved bench to begin collecting up the dirty plates. “All I’m going to say is that it involved three Gamorrean littermates, Eukamint oil, a lot of alcohol—and he’s still paying to keep it quiet.”

There was a collective gasp, followed by howls of laughter.

Knowing when to leave on a high note, Leia grinned as she headed for the galley. It had been a very enjoyable evening but she was wearing down, and while she wasn’t much of a cook, there were other ways to contribute before turning in. She paused, however, upon seeing the destruction wrought in the tiny kitchen. With a sigh, she loaded the dirty dishes and cooking tools into the cleanser and set it working, then wiped down the cooking unit itself before tackling the small countertop. If only she could scrub those unsavory images out of her head….

“Need some help?”

_Yes, please!_ Leia glanced around to find Han standing in the entrance to the tiny galley, his hands gripping the arched frame overhead as he leaned in toward her. She spent a mindless moment just ogling him.

_Now Han and some Eukamint oil…._

The sudden fantasy of a massage gone horribly right—of warm oil and slick skin, of flowing muscle and heavy breathing—made her flush and she shook her head, trying with little success to dislodge the vivid image. “It’s okay, I’ve got it.”

“Then mind if I watch?”

Guessing at his intent, she stopped to meet his gaze directly this time before giving a shy smile and a shrug, turning back to the cleanup job. “So long as you talk to me.”

“I think I can manage that,” he said as he stepped in and leaned back against the edge of the countertop. “So, when are you going to grace us with _your_ cooking?”

With a self-deprecating smile, Leia warned him off. “That’s probably not such a great idea. I may be good at some things but cooking isn’t one of them.”

“Nah, I think you’re good at lots of things. Pretty much anything you set your mind to.”

That comment made her look up again. She wasn’t surprised at the compliment—he’d been paying more of those over the last several months. Rather it was the simple power his words had to make her chest grow warm from inside, like the rush she’d experienced from that glitterstim she’d tried once while back at the university; they were equally heady. “Thank you…but be careful what you wish for. Maybe another time when ingredients aren’t in such short supply. I’d hate to waste any food in some experiment gone awry.”

Solo chuckled. “You’re in safe hands. I won’t let anything bad happen.”

While returning items to their proper spots among the walls of storage cabinets and chillers, she moved closer and he took advantage of her nearness to reach out a hand and tuck back the strands of hair that had come loose from her single braid. Leia slowed to a stop when his fingertips grazed along her skin, lingering longer than necessary behind her ear before drifting down the back of her exposed neck and under the loose collar of her borrowed shirt. Despite her efforts, her eyes closed of their own accord as her entire awareness shrank to the sensations he caused. It wasn’t until her head fell back that she caught herself with a little gasp and her eyes opened to meet his.

“I could teach you….”

Dazed, Leia could only stare at him, not even sure what they were talking about anymore. The last time he’d touched her this way, she’d ended up sprawled out on top of him on a hotel sofa. Tonight, there seemed the distinct possibility she would end up doing much more than that. Not knowing what to say, she felt like she was underwater, everything moving in slow motion.

_How does he do it? They should have entire deportment classes devoted to resisting seductive scoundrels._

“Just let me know.” His hand slid down the length of her arm until his fingers caught hers, and her arm seemed to rise all by itself as he brought her hand up to his lips.

Leia almost blurted out that she was ready for anything he wanted to teach her, anything at all, so long as he started right now. But before she could work up the nerve or a more sane thought, he started backing out of the narrow galley, tugging her along behind him. Not knowing where he was leading, she nevertheless followed without protest.

“Come on, that’s enough cleaning for tonight,” he coaxed with a smile. “Party’s not over. Chewie wants to tell you about the time we had to leave Iphigin in a hurry because he sat on their ambassador.”

Feeling like she was emerging from a trance, Leia blinked back to reality. “What? He _sat_ on…?”

Her hand still in his, he led her across the main hold. “Hey, would I make that up?”

Squeezing his hand back, she relented. “Okay, one more story.”


	15. Chapter 15

Not only did Leia stay for more than one story, but at some point, during a fit of laughter, she slid down sideways against the back of the banquette to butt up against Han. Forever the opportunist, he moved fast enough to wrap a welcoming arm around her shoulders before she could straighten back up, and she seemed content to remain there as the conversation roamed, even scooting over a little closer to be more comfortable as the hour grew late.

But it was inevitable that Leia would extract herself from his side, and as she wished them a good night and headed for the corridor, Han watched her leave, already missing her warmth, and staring long after she’d disappeared around the bend.

_You’ve made some damned foolish blunders in the past, but tonight I think you just made up for most of them._

When they’d been back in the galley, as he’d traced the graceful lines of her neck, he’d watched her letting go for him just as she had for those brief moments back in that hotel room on Ord Mantell. It was all he could do to keep from pushing his advantage before her brain reengaged, but he’d learned from his mistake back then and he was determined not to blow what might be his last chance by pushing her past her comfort level. She was opening up to him at her own pace and he would have to be happy with that. Rather than push, he would encourage; rather than demand, he would entice. Maybe he’d been a bit slow on the uptake, but he’d learned that leaving her wanting more was the key, and his invitation tonight had been subtle but clear. Whether or not their relationship continued to evolve would be her decision, and in this game, he’d just played his hand; now it was a matter of waiting to see if she called on his wager, upped the ante, or folded.

Leia Organa was easily the most unique woman he’d ever met, but she was still a woman, and tonight he’d recognized that universal look of desire in her eyes. Maybe she was teetering on that edge of making a choice already.

«She looked happy tonight,» Chewbacca interrupted, drawing Han back to the present.

“Yeah, she really did.” The fact that such a thing was so noteworthy troubled Han more than he expected. She deserved so much more than what Fate had dealt her. He gazed across the checkered tabletop at his friend, glad that Chewie really did seem to have a soft spot for their passenger. The few women in the past that Han had bothered to introduce to Chewie had at best regarded the Wookiee as nothing more than a talented pet. At worst, they’d cowered in fear of his going berserk and mauling them. But Leia had never treated Chewie as anything other than an equal. Sure, calling him a walking carpet hadn’t exactly been a compliment, but to say that their situation on the _Death Star_ , where they’d first met, was stressful was a huge understatement, and for what it was worth, Han had called him much worse. Instead, her snappy dialogue had helped ingratiate her into their very small circle of friends.

_So much for that fearsome Wookiee facade, Pal._

In the time since that crazy introduction, Leia had also displayed a quick and quirky sense of humor during the times she’d relaxed with them, something that promised an enjoyable journey now, whatever her decision regarding their relationship. He could even imagine, for a brief moment, what it would be like having her around on a permanent basis.

_As what? Respected leader by day and tramp navigator by night? Deckhand with portfolio? You’re space-happy. She’s got bigger dreams than bumming around on a dinged-up merchant freighter with you._

«She knows that we still plan to leave, doesn’t she?»

Han continued to sober up with the reminder. “We talked. She’s not happy about that.”

Chewbacca gave a mirthless hoot. «Then it’s unanimous.»

“She wants to come along.”

The tall Wookiee straightened in outrage, his howl echoing through the hold and down the corridors. «Absolutely not! You must tell her no.»

“Hey, keep it down! I _did_ tell her no but do you think that made any difference? We’ve agreed to disagree for now but you know her. Stubborn.”

«I think you two cancel one another out.»

That observation made Han scowl. “Whatever that’s supposed to mean…. Which reminds me, you should know that she moved into the bunk room last night.”

Chewie’s head tipped to the side. «I see. I assume you know what you’re doing.»

Han wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or just annoyed. “For your information, she moved into a spare bunk while I was asleep. I think she’s just lonely. If it turns into more, that’s up to her.”

«But you’ve got a Death Mark.»

“Do you think I forgot that? For what it’s worth, the Empire’s got a sweet little bounty out on her head, too, remember?”

«I remember.» Seeming to deliberate for a moment, Chewbacca gave up with a big shrug. «You’re right, it is her decision. As long as she understands the situation…. She is very brave for one so small. I’m reminded of my wife.»

His expression softening at his friend’s show of sentiment, Han had to agree with the assessment: bold, spirited, intelligent, determined, and beautiful.

_Why the hell couldn’t we have met back when things were less complicated?_

_Who are you kidding? She never would’ve noticed you._

Even then, he’d been a credit-poor pilot with a questionable background, while she’d had the universe at her feet. He sometimes wondered if he was nothing more than a curiosity to her—that he’d revealed his own insecurities when he’d teased her that there weren’t enough scoundrels to liven up her life. There was a reason for the deficiency. Would she grow tired of him once the novelty wore off? Once her peers or High Command learned she was consorting with a Corellian smuggler? It was a doubt that plagued him. He had no land, little money, and no reputation worth mentioning in politer circles of society. His only possession and dubious claim to fame was a fast but temperamental ship. While he didn’t think the princess was the type to go slumming like some socialites he’d known while back in the Academy, nevertheless, he couldn’t rule out the possibility and he hated that suspicion. He wanted to believe her interest was genuine, but what might that cost her own reputation and career in the end?

_No, there would’ve always been complications. There would’ve always been sacrifices for both of us._

Until the day they’d met and she’d accused him of not caring about anything or anybody, he really hadn’t given a damn about what others thought of him. Yet for some reason, that indictment had stung coming from her, as if she’d known it would. Had she read him that easily?

_Damn it, she’s good. Why does that keep surprising you?_

Long overdue, Han was gaining a new appreciation of what it must be like for Chewie to be separated from his wife and family for such long stretches of time. They were in this trouble together because of his own mistakes and indecision and arrogance; the least he could do was make sure Chewie got to see the ones he loved one more time before they faced Jabba. “Hey, once we get the hyperdrive fixed, how about we swing by Kashyyyk quick before heading to Tatooine?”

Fangs bared in the equivalent of a broad smile, Chewie nodded. «I’d like that. It’s been too long. Do you think the princess will want to come along? She’s never met my family.»

_And he accuses me of being a big sap?_

“Yeah. She’ll probably insist on it if I can’t talk her out of her plan by then.”

«Malla can make her see reason. She is good at that…although she never had much luck with me.»

Han laughed. “It’s worth a shot, Pal. Hey, I’m thinking of overhauling the forward freight elevator motor tomorrow. I’m tired of playing nursemaid every time we use it.”

«I agree. That’s a good project.»

Scrubbing his cheeks, feeling the full-day’s stubble coming in like a cash crop, Han yawned and began pulling himself around the table to the edge, then stood. “I’m turning in. ’night, Chewie.”

Walking up into the corridor, he paid a call to the cockpit for one last check and was glad to see everything was in order. With a little trepidation, since what he wished for and what he got when it came to Leia were often at opposite ends of the galaxy, he finally headed for his cabin.

The small room was fully lit but empty when Han arrived. The fresher was still occupied and he realized with a grin that she’d probably showered yet again. Beginning with their long stint in the fetid jungles of the Serricci base, she’d been using every strained excuse possible to take advantage of his real water shower, something he was happy to encourage. More than one of his fantasies had revolved around just those scenarios.

An instant later, the door opened and Leia emerged. She stopped in surprise upon finding him standing there. Her cheeks reddened like a sunset on Corellia, and one of her hands instinctively dropped to tug down the bottom hem of the long white shirt that hung to just above her knees, revealing slender naked legs that demanded his attention. Feeling the stirrings of arousal as he recalled how the backs of those thighs had felt beneath his fingertips weeks ago, he dragged his gaze back up. He’d seen her decked out in royal finery during the propaganda stunt of an award ceremony on Yavin IV, and he’d seen her dressed to kill on that momentous night on Ord Mantell, and yet he’d never seen her sexier than she looked right now, with her brunette hair down and damp, her skin still glowing from the hot shower, and wearing what he imagined to be nothing but his shirt. He had to swallow to find his voice. “Done in there?”

“Yes.”

Still trying to curb his instincts, Han swallowed back what he really wanted to say; the last thing he wanted to do was scare her away. From the way she’d frozen in the entrance to the fresher, radiating nervousness, it was still entirely possible she’d run again. He wondered if maybe she’d hoped to be in bed and already asleep by the time he showed up, but wasn’t sure why she should be so surprised to see him. What had she expected by moving into his cabin?

“Right,” he said.

When Leia still didn’t move, he began to smile. Whatever was going through her head at that moment, it was enough to disengage her awareness of the situation and that wasn’t like her. Deciding to help out, he gestured past her shoulder. “Can I go in?”

Leia’s expression turned to one of confusion for a second before she realized she was blocking his path. “Oh! Sorry.” Flustered, she moved to stand in the center of the small cabin so he could pass.

“Find everything you need?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Good.” The temptation to kiss her right then was strong, if for no other reason than to defuse her awkwardness, but the random kiss while in the cockpit or lounge was very different from here with her half-dressed and ready for bed. His vow had been to let her choose the moment and it took every shred of willpower to stick to that promise. He stepped into the fresher and closed the door.


	16. Chapter 16

Left standing alone in the center of the bunk room, Leia debated what to do. The part of her responsible for logic and common sense insisted she get into her bunk and try to sleep, but all the other parts demanded something wildly different.

It had been a good day—the best in a long, long time. Even her disagreement with Han about the near-future, though it had ended on an unresolved note, had answered some old questions and not devolved into a shouting match; that alone was a major breakthrough. Dinner was nearly perfect, the only thing arguably missing being Luke’s presence…although had he been there, she suspected she and Han would not have been so open about their own rediscovered détente.

_We were rather obvious tonight, weren’t we?_

The shared smiles, the casual embraces, and that disorienting interlude in the galley; those were things they might have gone out of their way to hide from Luke, not wanting to flaunt their late-blossoming romance in his face. Then again, since it seemed that Luke had accepted the fact she preferred to keep his friendship platonic, maybe he would be okay about this, too.

_He’ll have to be. I’m afraid we’re past the stage of pretending this isn’t happening._

Although the air was cool, as were the deck plates beneath her bare feet, the hot shower had warmed her enough to compensate. Her hair was still slightly damp and hung heavy down her back. She reached up to lift it away and drape it over one shoulder, then glanced down at herself. His shirt was less revealing than that slinky black number she’d worn back on Ord Mantell, but it still seemed to have the same effect on Han and she’d half expected him to kiss her moments ago, or at the very least say something suggestive, but he’d done neither.

_He’s waiting for a signal, waiting for you to make the move._

Wasn’t that what her friend Keris had said on the eve of her mission to Ord Mantell? That everything probably hinged on her decision?

All this time she’d criticized Han for being unable to commit…and yet here she struggled to do just that.

_Is that irony or does that just make me a hypocrite? It’s time to make a choice._

Leia mustered her resolve and stepped forward to stand in front of Han’s double-wide bunk. She reached down to draw back the blanket and top sheet then turned around to sit on the edge. Heartbeat fluttering, she took in a deep breath and worked at calming her nerves.

_What’s there to be afraid of? You’re already in love so it isn’t as if you can avoid that particular heartache. Would it be so bad to let this man love you back?_

She knew that there might be little chance of a future for them together, but after the string of horrors that seemed to comprise most of her adult life, wasn’t she overdue for a positive experience, no matter how short-lived? Something completely of her own choice? Something she’d been denying herself for too long? Rather than reject this opportunity, she would embrace it as her own; she would embrace him and accept him on those terms. The situation wasn’t perfect, but between their outstanding bounties and the war, it was unrealistic to think there might ever be a perfect time. She had everything to lose and nothing to gain by waiting any longer.

Her continued virginity had been a matter of choice, due more to a lack of suitable opportunities than any prudishness. In the rarefied world she’d come from, sex involved ramifications far beyond emotional entanglements and pregnancy—things like dirty politics, embarrassing media scandals, family alliances, and power plays were the norm. Although raised to be on her guard and rethink any impulse, this had not meant she’d remained uninformed. She understood the mechanics of sex, had a rough idea of what to expect, and had even seen a pornographic holovid while at the university—it hadn’t been the least bit romantic but it had eliminated some of the mystery. Aside from occasional personal gratification to release stress and find sleep, however, she’d never done more than flirt and kiss with the occasional suitor. How could she hope to please a man who’d traveled from one end of the universe to another and no doubt dabbled extensively along the way? Just how many women had shared this bunk with him and was it foolish to think she was special or would be the last? It was a rare event when she doubted her own capabilities, but tonight seemed full of exceptions.

The fresher door opened and Han stepped out. His shirt must have gone into the autovalet unit because he was bare-chested now, and for the first time, Leia felt no compulsion to look away in embarrassment but instead let her eyes roam over his exposed form, appreciating the lines of his lean body. Defined but not overly developed, his muscles were earned through honest—well, not-so-honest—work, displaying just the right combination of muscle and hair and broadness of chest before tapering down to narrow hips. Was she biased in thinking he appeared the perfect specimen of masculinity?

In the process of undoing his belt, Han faltered mid-stride when he looked up and spotted her sitting on his bunk. Belt forgotten, he stared.

Leia would have wagered that her blush was bright enough to glow in the dark, and although she did not look away, she had no clue what to say either. This was yet another topic never covered in deportment lessons. Instead, she tried a shy smile.

That seemed to snap Solo out of his shock. “That’s my bunk,” he stated for the record, as if double-checking to make sure she hadn’t made a mistake.

“I know.” Leia silently went on to thank whatever deities were assisting tonight for the fact that her voice didn’t abandon her.

Han nodded then and rewarded her bold initiative with the heart-stopping lopsided grin that never failed to make her wobble a little. Moving forward, he sat down beside her, close enough that their arms and legs brushed, and bent over to begin pulling at one of his boots.

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected—him pouncing on her or dancing a little jig, perhaps?—but just sitting and watching while he struggled with his footwear had never been part of the fantasy. Passivity was not her strong suit. Getting to her feet, she moved in front of him, dropped down to one knee, and reached for his foot.

He met her gaze as he leaned back to prop himself up on his elbows, allowing her to lift up his boot. She grasped hold of the heel and tugged it off. It was without a doubt the most deliberately sensual thing she’d ever done and, thus, she was unprepared for what she found. An unregal snort of laughter escaped her lips.

Han’s smoldering expression morphed into puzzlement. “What’s so funny?”

“Nice sock,” she quipped. It was bright red, like the warning beacon on an airlock.

“They’re lucky,” he said as he lifted his other boot. She obliged, catching the heel and pulling.

“You have lucky socks?”

“They’re working, aren’t they?”

Leia had to concede that point; she wouldn’t have played the odds on this night happening. Nevertheless, the socks would have to go before her mood was completely destroyed. Yanking them both off and flinging them behind her without a second glance, she got back to her feet. Then she hesitated again, unsure of what to do next.

Still reclined on his elbows, Han seemed happy to let her look as long as she wanted, not the least bit self-conscious. His tanned skin was a wonderful contrast with the white of the turned-back sheet, and there was a thin strip of paler skin along the waistline of his trousers where the tan ended. There was also a fascinating definition of muscle right at the front of his hips, an angled line that disappeared below the beltline but led her gaze toward the obvious evidence of his anticipation. He still hadn’t moved.

_This is ridiculous. I gave the signal! We might not get anywhere if he leaves this all up to me._

“You’re sure about this?”

Although he’d practically read her mind, his question was a surprise. But it demonstrated his understanding of the risks and ramifications of her timing as well as the basic reason why she still hesitated now, and she was grateful for that. His expression was an open mixture of concern, boyish anticipation, and poorly hidden lust. But the fact that he asked, as though worried she might change her mind at the last second, was enough to bolster her courage. If he cared so much that he was still willing to let her walk away at this critical juncture, then she was making the right decision.

She had to lick suddenly dry lips. “Yes. Ninety-seven percent sure.”

The Corellian’s smile broadened in relief. “I like those numbers. Come here.”

Sitting upright, Han held out a hand and she took it, allowing him to draw her close until she stood between his knees. That curious feeling was returning, as if the universe had shifted into a lower gear and slowed down as her senses heightened and focused on what he was doing, how he made her feel. He kissed the back of her hand and then turned it over, opening it to kiss her palm.

“Anything I can do to make it ninety-eight?”

“I think you just did.” She let her fingers curl over his cheek, feeling the dark stubble along his jaw. Spellbound by the texture, she ran a thumb along the ridge of the scar on his chin, something she’d always wanted to do. “Tell me how you got this.”

His hands reached to touch her, resting on her hips. “The scar? Cantina brawl with some off-duty stormtroopers when I was at the Academy. But you should’ve seen the other guy.”

“Hmmm.” She smiled and moved her hand toward the back of his head, watching her fingers disappear into his thick hair, adoring where the longer locks in back curled behind his ear. Then her eyes locked on his hazel ones, so infused with molten gold, and she opened her mouth to say something, but the words disintegrated into a sigh as his hands began gliding up her sides, down her back, then up again. There was a solid _thump_ in her pelvic region as a new rush of warmth spread through her body. Even through the fabric of his borrowed shirt, she could feel the heat from those talented hands making her dizzy as his thumbs rode over her stomach, then up to graze against already hardened nipples. For a moment, she lost the ability to breathe and swayed toward him as his hands lingered there, thumbs continuing to trace the outlines, before sliding down once more. This time they dropped past her hips, down until they reached bare skin beneath the hem of the long shirt and curved around the contours of her thighs. She gasped as goose bumps arose everywhere and her hands dropped to his shoulders to keep from losing her balance.

“Was that ninety-nine?” There was some of the old teasing in his deep voice, the familiar Han who so often drove her to distraction, but there was something else in his tone that told her it was okay to open up and trust him in this, their latest adventure.

Her lingering nervousness eroded under the growing flood of pleasure. The last time he’d touched her like this, she’d blamed half a bottle of precious Alderaani wine for her loss of control; this time, she was sober as a Jedi knight, intoxicated only by his touch, and she wanted all of it—the joy, the intimacy, the chance to do something for herself on her own terms.

_I want him and everything that entails. I want to be his._

Han’s eyes didn’t leave her face, intent on her reactions as his hands slid upward again, this time inside the loose shirt to explore underneath. His fingers were calloused from a career of working with tools and freight and they caused a wonderful friction as they roamed over hidden curves and valleys, igniting fires along the way. She knew the strength of those hands, had watched them countless times over the past fifteen months, and yet was amazed by how gentle they were now. Just like when he flew the _Falcon_ , always seeming to coax a little more out of his ship, his hands now moved with a confidence that left her with the same keenness to respond.

“You feel so good, Leia. Let me see you.”

His voice, his request, the way he said her name, made her pulse throb. With strangely heavy limbs, she pulled the shirt up over her head and felt his hands claim the revealed territory even before she could toss the garment onto the spare bunk. Naked now, she’d never felt so vulnerable, and yet seeing the look of rapture that overtook his handsome face, she’d never felt quite so empowered.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed in a reverent tone as his hands followed his gaze, fanning those flames already lit, and he bent forward to press a kiss to the flat, trembling plane above her stomach. “Leia.” Using her name like a caress, he tasted her newly exposed flesh, reassuring and exciting at the same time, making her shiver.

Cradling his head in her hands, fingers buried in his hair again, she wanted to watch him, but her eyes closed of their own accord as a quake rumbled through her body when his mouth moved upward. Powerful hands steadied her, keeping her from swaying off-balance as her head fell back. She moaned as those sensuous lips reached a breast, taking in a nipple for the first time. Teasing her, his tongue swirled around, flicking over the tip; pleasure raced from there to coalesce in all the strategic spots, leaving her light-headed.

He’d always driven her a bit crazy in the past, but what Han was doing now gave “crazy” a whole new definition.

When he suddenly stopped and held her far enough away so that he could stand, she took advantage of the new vantage point to touch him, her hands moving across his bare chest, for the first time able to do so without awkwardness or fear of what he might say. The combination of skin and muscle, wonderfully masculine, left her wanting to press all of her skin against his and slide her entire body along his solid frame, and she found herself wishing he would hurry up so she could indulge in that urge.

But Han took his time as one of his hands fell to the small of her back while the other rose up, bunching her hair as he held her head still and bent to kiss her. Any last doubts melted away as he conveyed the passion he’d held back for so long. All the other kisses they’d shared seemed only a prelude to this as his mouth pressed hard against hers, hungry, his tongue invading to stroke along hers in erotic exploration, a demonstration of things to come. His stubble was rough against her chin as he gathered her up against his body, almost lifting her off her feet as he ground against her. He’d never handled her like this before, never demonstrated his strength and desire to possess her, to lay claim to his territory by branding her as his own with a searing kiss.

Without easing off, his wandering hand slipped between them, down her belly and lower to explore the now-wet folds below; it was a gentle touch, careful, yet she gasped against his mouth and her fingers dug into his back as a new surge of electricity coursed through her, lighting up every nerve ending.

The reality of Han—a man with whom she’d sparred for so long—touching her everywhere and knowing her in the most intimate way imaginable, causing her to lose control like this, made Leia tremble with a riot of emotions.

“It’s okay, Leia.” His rumbling voice sounded breathless as his lips grazed across her jaw toward her ear. “I’ve got you.”

Something had to be short-circuiting in her thought processes because far from blank, her mind was inundated with a rush of jumbled thoughts: He had her; He was going to have her; He wanted her. She didn’t know for sure what she wanted anymore other than more of what he was doing. “Please, don’t stop.”

His knowing chuckle teased her, his breath hot against her neck now. “Don’t worry, we’re just starting.”

His hand came up to catch one of hers and brought it down between them to press her palm against the front of his trousers, a not-so-subtle hint that it was okay for her to explore lower as well. Enthralled and emboldened, she ran her fingers along the hidden length of hardness trapped there, tracing the outline. She was elated and reassured to find him respond in much the same way she had a moment ago. She rubbed harder and was rewarded with a shuddering groan, then she leaned in to kiss his chest, tasting the salty tang of his skin and breathing in his scent that mingled now with her own arousal. She liked the tickle of coarse chest hair against her nose. Acting on an impulse, she kissed one of his nipples, running her tongue around the tiny pebble like she’d felt him do before flicking across the tip.

Han jerked as if he’d stuck a finger in a live circuit fuse and let out a surprised grunt. “That’s it,” he announced, clearly reaching some abrupt decision. Grabbing her hips, he turned them both around and guided her backward until she bumped against the edge of his bed. “Into my bunk. Now.”

More than happy to let him take the lead, Leia sank down onto the recessed bed and scooted back to make room for him, then gathered her hair up to toss it over one shoulder out of the way as she reclined against the bank of pillows lining the wall.

“Gods, I’ve waited so long to say that,” Han muttered as he hurried with undoing his belt and the closure of his now-tight trousers, then pushed them down to reveal a pair of black boxer-briefs that tented out with the hard evidence of his arousal.

Admiring the ripple and flex of exposed muscles as he stripped, Leia couldn’t help herself. “If only I’d known you had those socks….”

Kicking his pants off to the side, he spared a moment afterward to gaze at her in mild disbelief, hands on his narrow hips. “You’re going to forget about those damned socks. You’re going to forget about everything for a while.”

Leia’s breath caught short at his words as she tried to imagine how blissful that could be; to lose all her worries and dark memories, to leave behind who she was for even one moment, sounded just this side of paradise.

_If he could do that for me…?_

As if he’d sensed that desperate wish, Han’s expression grew more serious as he removed his shorts in one last hasty motion, then straightened up and moved to kneel on the bunk beside her. She’d never seen him fully naked and certainly not in a state of arousal; he was a bit intimidating and quite fascinating and she didn’t know where to look, yet was too spellbound to look away.

“Relax, Leia. It’s just you and me here.” Although his look was intense and hungry, there was a tenderness about him that gave her another rush of affection. His hand touched one of her ankles before running up to her calf, reviving the banked heat. Then he gave a gentle tug downward, indicating she should slide lower on the bunk. She complied, willing to trust his directions. As she came to rest with just her head on a pillow, his hands went to the mattress at either side so he could lean crossways over her. “Trust me and I’ll show you how to fly.”

His words were like magic, the promise of yet another rescue the perfect salve to her soul. Gazing up at him from this new position, she couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone more handsome, more potent. His sheer presence hovering over her made her heart trip then race to catch up. She tipped her head back a little, chin rising, and it was all the invitation he needed as he bent at the elbows to descend on her mouth, stealing her breath once more. She held his head and rolled toward him to keep from separating as he moved to lie alongside her, then she finally surrendered to that urgent need to press against him. His long body felt magnificent and hot, and it was pure instinct that made her drag a leg up along the top of his thigh to embrace him completely.

Leia couldn’t tell which part of what he was doing now was threatening to send her into overdrive, but when his hand eventually moved down between her legs to resume a tender investigation, she no longer cared. Still propped up on one elbow, it had only taken a few moments for him to find just the right combination of pressure and speed, anticipating her need. She grew wanton, shifting to grant him better access, throwing her leg over his hip, absolutely needing to pull him closer. As his erection pressed hard against her sensitive skin, she was filled with a sudden desperation to blend with him—to not only blur the lines but erase them completely.

Han’s mouth moved below the line of her jaw, laying down a string of kisses along her throat as she arched back to expose more. “Relax. Just let me touch you,” he whispered, his provocative appeal sending another shiver throughout her body.

Although feeling wild now, she obeyed by easing her grip and lying back, closing her eyes as he brought her body to life. Then she let out a little gasp, tensing as he introduced a finger into her. She shivered as he ran his tongue along the outer shell of her ear before sucking the lobe into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth. Her body was responding of its own accord now, moving in sync with his stroke as her mind finally began to disconnect. It felt as if the atmospheric controls of the room had spiked into the tropical range and a fine sheen of sweat broke out all over.

“Have you ever touched yourself like this?” His hot breath on her ear was making all the hairs on that side of her body stand at attention.

“Sometimes…” she whispered, surprised not only by the question but by her own honesty.

It must have been the right answer because he moaned into her hair. “Tell me what you think about…”

The fact that he wanted to know her innermost desires felt far more personal than anything else he’d done yet and she opened her eyes, needing to see his face, to see his reaction as she responded, “You…Kissing me. Touching me like this.”

Leia hadn’t thought his expression could smolder with more intensity, but he proved her wrong as he paused to meet her eyes, as if her words had struck a chord within him. “I’ve never felt like this, Leia. _Never_. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

His confession, and how it matched her own, was a pleasure she hadn’t anticipated. As he kissed her again, she moaned along, unable to contain it any longer as her body surged up against him, needing more. Her own hand raced down his arm to encourage and guide his caress, knowing where he wanted this to go now, feeling her body beginning to tense up and tremble with building energy. That he was fulfilling one of her fantasies brought her closer to the edge far faster than she expected; ready to let go for him, her free hand flew up to cup a breast, toying with the nipple in an effort to find that release. So close….

“That’s it, Sweetheart. Fly for me.”

As Han’s mouth moved down her neck to her chest and her hand gave way to his sensuous lips, his tongue swirled around in perfect synchronization with his hand before sucking hard, just as his fingers changed their stroke inside her, pressing upward. And then she was soaring, as if he’d flipped some hyperdrive switch, and her body lit up with pleasure, the explosive flash sweeping away everything for a blissful eternity as her body rocked against him.

Too soon she returned to the present to find Han casually kissing a trail between her breasts, not quite allowing her to come all the way back down. “That’s my girl.”

Flushed and dazed, she opened her eyes to find his once more.

_My girl?_

His words sounded wonderful. She _felt_ wonderful. “That was—” Aftershocks made her gasp and clutch at him, her body still charged with potential, the neurons firing at random from his roaming touch. Giving up on words, she let out a laugh of pure joy.

He matched that with his best languid smile. “Better than you imagined?”

“ _So_ much better.”

His gift was another series of kisses. “I could watch you do that all night…but I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

Realizing too late that she’d neglected his own pleasure, she pulled him closer for a deep kiss while running her free hand down his lean body, rediscovering the boldness that was her nature. Captivated by what she found, she broke away to watch her fingers explore the remarkable combination of velvet skin and rigid flesh, and she could see and hear his immediate response.

_If I can make him feel the way he just made me feel…._

As her fingers wrapped around him to give a gentle stroke, his groan deepened and she felt his pulse throb in tune with hers, but before she could repeat the motion, Han surprised her by grabbing her hand to stop it. He brought it up to kiss her palm and then ran his lips down her forearm.

“Not this time, not unless you want to end this trip right now. It’s been too long for me.” As if to emphasize his own urgency, he shifted his grip on her wrist and guided it down to the bunk at her far side, pinning it there as he rolled her flat onto her back and positioned himself between her legs.

A whole new wave of excitement and apprehension sped through her as his eyes found hers. He changed his grasp to lace their fingers together, and although she’d never told him and he’d never asked, he obviously recognized her hesitancy for what it was. Allowing some of his weight to rest on her, he started another slow kiss, at first tender and then with building hunger while his free hand slid down between them, finding her center again to restore the flames before guiding himself inside with one slow but steady movement. The sudden mixture of pleasure and pain and fullness as her body gave way made her tense up and she let out a little cry in spite of herself.

“Leia…. Did I hurt you?” he choked out as he trembled above her. His head dropped next to hers, the rough stubble of his faint beard rasping against her shoulder. He didn’t move for a long moment, allowing her time to adjust before his hips lifted and then lowered again.

“No, it’s okay. It’s…. Oh….” It was almost sensory overload, so many things at once as the initial shock and pain faded, leaving behind the most amazing and unanticipated pleasure. There weren’t adequate words.

As he rose up onto his straightened arms and began a slow rhythm of his hips, the exquisite sensation of him moving within her, filling her, stole away her ability to speak. Eyes closed, all her awareness focused where they were joined. His heat and hardness and the intense sensation of fluid friction from his slow series of strokes in and out was unlike anything she’d felt before, the intense sharing more than she’d ever imagined. He overwhelmed and completed her, fulfilling that desperate and inexplicable need that had haunted her since the first day they’d met; here was the answer to that powerful yearning whenever she’d thought of him, all so obvious now. On instinct, her legs locked around his lean hips, forcing him deeper.

Han stopped abruptly, trembling above her.

Confused and alarmed, she looked up at him, wondering if she’d done something wrong.

“I won’t last long. Not this time.” There was sincere regret in his shaky voice, a rare glimpse of vulnerability in the midst of his most powerful moment.

She pulled him down for another kiss. “Don’t stop.”

“Leia….” He began again, nearly sliding all the way out before thrusting back, forcing a moan from both of them. Then his movements fell into a driving rhythm and she tried her best to match him, to learn the steps in this new dance he was leading. Coated now with his own sweat, radiating heat, he pressed her into the mattress as his pace increased. Her own arousal began building again, deep within like a static charge, the potential making her skin tingle and its fine hairs stand on end. But before that energy could explode again, Han’s rhythm broke, becoming erratic as he surrendered to his own need. He let out a little strangled cry as he climaxed and shuddered to a stop, then collapsed on top of her, out of breath. He was heavy but he’d made sure not to crush her and she was surprised to find that she didn’t mind the weight—it was almost reassuring.

Still breathing hard, Han lifted his head to meet her eyes and give her an extremely satisfied grin—not teasing, not smug, just happy.

_Oh, he could patent that smile and I’d buy every one of them!_

Han’s mouth dropped open and he looked on the verge of saying something, but then seemed to hesitate and instead pressed his forehead against hers. It was such a simple gesture, as if trying to sync their minds as their bodies had been moments before. She closed her eyes in harmony, feeling as though she’d just been given an unexpected reprieve from a prison sentence of emotional denial. Had she really almost convinced herself that she didn’t want or need this sort of thing in her life?

_I must have been delusional._

“It’ll be so much better next time,” Han murmured as he lazily kissed her shoulder. “I promise.”

As she ran her hands across his shoulders and down his flanks, memorizing every inch, she breathed, “Who’s complaining?”

_Maybe this is what a Spice habit is like. I can’t stop touching him and I don’t even want to._

His diminishing presence within her was yet another novel feeling and she was left with a sense of emptiness and longing when he shifted his weight off her and slipped out. Watching as Han reached behind them to grab a pillow and sprawled out on his back beside her, she felt a kaleidoscope of emotions mixed in with a glow of pleasure and contentment—she was tired and yet stirred all at the same time, a very curious combination.

She started rolling toward him but was stalled when there was a tug at her scalp and she realized he’d trapped her hair. “Hey, Flyboy.”

Following a nudge to his arm, Han obliged by sitting up until she cleared the mattress and tossed her hair back over her pillow. Now free to move about, Leia shifted around and pressed against his long body once more as his arm drew her in so she could use his shoulder as a pillow. He felt a little clammy now that he was cooling down. Still trying to reconcile all these new discoveries with what she’d always imagined lovemaking to be, Leia replayed Han’s promise in her mind and nearly laughed again. “Next time? You sound awfully sure there’ll be a next time.”

Han made a little choked sound, craned his neck around to look at her, and cocked an eyebrow as if he were still in possession of some universal secret. “Care to make a little wager, Your Worship?”

“No, and if you keep calling me that, there definitely won’t be a next time.”

His old teasing smile was back and at full wattage. “You say that now….” He followed up the unfinished challenge by taking advantage of the arm around her shoulders to lazily trace a finger along the outer circle of her closest areola. That was all it took to make her twitch and perk right back up. “But I have inside information that says you’re bluffing.”

Leia didn’t know whether to be pleasantly surprised or alarmed that he already knew how to play her like a Zeltron lute. “That’s what I get for falling for a cheater at sabacc,” she moaned. Unable to help herself, she drew her leg up along the top of his, obeying that still-lingering urge to touch as much skin as she could.

_He really is gorgeous. If only you hadn’t been so stubborn._

“Falling, huh?” Han pondered aloud.

“Maybe. A little. The verdict’s not in yet.”

At first, she’d supposed he was teasing and she’d responded in kind, but now something made her stop and reconsider. While she was sure of her feelings and knew he did care about her—he’d said as much and demonstrated it on an almost-daily basis—she also knew that sex did not necessarily equate to love. There was still a possibility he was playing her, opportunist that he was, but she supposed that if this were to turn into a colossal mistake, at least he would be gone soon and no one would need to know…. The thought was unwelcome yet the calculating politician in her still logged it away.

Han let out a big sigh. “I can live with that.”

Something in his response left her dissatisfied with having settled for the status quo. Just how close had she come to chasing him off? She certainly hadn’t given him much incentive to stick around. How many other men would have written her off long ago as frigid? His persistence despite everything left her humble. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

Han sat up, his expression a sudden mix of confusion and concern as he looked down at her, clearly baffled by her incongruous confession. Reaching out, he fingered a lock of her hair, tugged it a little, and then tucked it back behind her ear as the lopsided smile returned. “Never gonna happen, Sweetheart. Not on my watch.”

Even though she suspected he’d misunderstood her meaning, her breath caught and for an instant she felt the threat of tears.

_You are_ not _going to cry in front of him again! Certainly not now!_

Sitting up as well, she groped for the covers to interrupt the emotional pattern before it snowballed into something embarrassing. Assisting in pulling the sheet up to their waists, he then joined her in lying back.

“Ah, Kest!” Han broke the comfortable silence they’d settled into.

Up on an elbow again in an instant, Leia eyed him in cautious expectation.

He looked downright uncomfortable. “Uh, are you by chance on any sort of birth control?”

Leia shook her head in wonder. “ _Now_ you think of that?”

“Well, you sort of took me by surprise.”

To be fair, he had a point. She decided to cut him some slack. “Don’t worry. I started contraceptive shots right after we set up the base on Serricci.”

One of his thick eyebrows rose again. “Were you expecting to see a lot of action, Your Hotness?”

_That’s what I get for going easy on him._

“No, Laserbrain. I had enough to deal with and didn’t need the inconvenience of my cycle on top of everything else.”

Han made a little “Oh” face before nodding and closing his eyes. “That’s a relief. My shot’s overdue. Wasn’t planning on this little detour.”

“No…” Leia breathed in agreement, although his statement stirred up a whole new set of questions to ponder: Was his expectation of surviving his encounter with Jabba so low that he hadn’t bothered with what had evidently been a regular thing? What if she hadn’t been so prepared? And even so, prevention methods were not infallible and nature often found a way—what if she became pregnant?

Years ago, despite her political goals, she’d entertained dreams of someday finding a husband, starting a family of their own, and being normal—or as normal as being a member of royalty would allow. But war and Alderaan’s destruction and her new pessimism had shoved those ideas so far back in her mind that she’d forgotten they existed. Yet here was a man who had not only awakened her womanhood but was tempting those thoughts back out into the light. Still, she couldn’t decide which was harder to imagine right now—Han as a father or herself as a mother.

_Don’t even go there, Leia. The last thing you need is to introduce that sort of complication into this mess. Just enjoy this for what it is…whatever it is._

Changing tracks, she wondered what might have happened had their escape from Hoth gone more smoothly. The likelihood they would have reconciled before he left would have been remote. Instead, they probably would have parted with barely a civil word spoken and her life would have become that much emptier. It was a depressing thought that caused her to hug him a little tighter.

“Is it wrong that I’m glad the hyperdrive failed?” Leia mused aloud, surprised by her own words—her duty and dedication still seemed very much intact, and yet she was finding this four-week diversion nowhere near as odious as expected. In fact, things had taken a dramatic turn toward the positive.

“Wrong? Nah…but if all you’d wanted to do was to bunk me, you could’ve just asked.”

_You walked right into that one, didn’t you?_

Still in the middle of formulating a suitable retort, Leia jumped when the cabin hatch hissed open to reveal a very surprised looking Chewbacca. The Wookiee ducked his head and disappeared into the fresher with a subdued bark of apology. Too late, she let out a knee-jerk curse as an equally ingrained sense of propriety made her dive under the covers.

Laughing, Han picked up the end of the sheet and peered in at her. “Don’t worry about Chewie. There aren’t many secrets left on this ship.”

“But….” She didn’t really have a follow-up and stopped.

_What did you expect? There’s only one fresher and you didn’t exactly announce your intentions tonight, did you?_

“Hey, if he didn’t like the idea of you being in here with me, you’d know about it. Trust me.”

Sighing, she closed her eyes and tried to center herself. In the span of a few days, she’d gone from openly despising Han to sharing his bed, and their first night together was already common knowledge before it was over. What would the Wookiee, and—by extension—everyone else, think of her? Some people, like Keris, might approve or even applaud—if their suspicious tinkering and comments were anything to go by—but there would doubtless be others not at all impressed by her choice of partner.

Leia shrugged it off. What business was it of theirs? The world she’d represented and would have come to rule no longer existed. She was now officially persona non grata and she chafed at playing the cherished yet pathetic icon of Imperial oppression for High Command. By her own insistence and persistence, she’d carved out a new niche for herself within the Rebellion by becoming what amounted to a glorified quartermaster and procurer, something that kept her busy, kept her involved, and provided her the opportunity to go out on missions whenever she could convince them to let her off the leash. In truth, she no longer had to answer to anyone unless she chose to do so.

Grinning into the side of Han’s chest, Leia found she liked that idea. She hadn’t picked this man out of any obligation or political expedience; she’d picked him because of who he was to her, how he made her feel when she was with him, and because the feelings seemed mutual. Becoming his lover had been a deliberate and very personal choice and she wouldn’t regret that. While they didn’t always agree and Han didn’t always understand her, at least he tried and that was a stroke of luck she wouldn’t take for granted.

_The fact he’s handsome enough to make you stammer is a nice perk, though, isn’t it?_

Getting back up onto an elbow, but making sure this time that the blanket preserved what was left of her modesty, Leia gazed down at her fine-looking spacer. She took in his expectant expression and wanted to say something about how she felt, but was unsure if he would welcome it. Intuition told her he might, but old fears remained that he would shy away from commitment-laden words like “love.” If she guessed wrong, it could be the surest way to chase him off—it dimmed her elation to think that saying something so heartfelt might have the opposite effect of her intention. Longing to understand him better, she ran a finger along his lips.

Han kissed her fingertip. “You okay?”

Leia nodded and her eyelids drooped a little, feeling a shade embarrassed. “You’re used to being interrupted in here?”

“No, but after you’ve spaced for a while, it’s just not a big deal anymore. We’ve both seen a lot worse.”

Not wanting to know, Leia grimaced and desperately hoped she hadn’t just earned a ranking on the spectacle list. This new compromised privacy was a concession she would have to make for being involved with a man who lived on such a small starship. Although her life had become just as nomadic as his was on this tramp freighter, she was usually still afforded some semblance of privacy due to her former status and this was a culture shock. Strange how those sorts of mundane details never played a part in any of her fantasies involving Han. What else had she left out?

“Don’t worry. Now that he knows, he’ll be more careful about his timing. Maybe we’ll have to set up a warning system.”

“What, like hanging one of those socks outside the door?”

Han burst out laughing. “Yeah, like that.” A big yawn followed as his back arched up, then he scratched his head.

Too late to look away, she was unable to stop her own sympathetic yawn.

“Tired?”

Feeling a tad embarrassed, Leia nodded.

“Bored already?”

She dropped her head down on his chest. “I could fill a datapad with words to describe you, but ‘boring’ would never be one of them.”

The fresher door cracked open again and Leia lifted her head in time to see the Wookiee opening the cabin hatch.

“Hey, Chewie,” Han called out, stopping him. “Douse those lights, would ya?”

Chewbacca surveyed them both for a moment before nodding and giving a big toothy grin. «Looks like I win the pool.» With that, he switched the lights off and disappeared into the corridor.

“Smart ass!” Han shouted after him before the hatch slid shut, plunging the room into near total darkness except for the sliver of dim red light coming from the fresher entrance.

Straining to adjust her eyes, Leia squinted down at him. “What? A _betting_ pool?”

“Troublemaker,” Han grumbled as he rearranged his pillow. “Long story, Sweetheart. I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“Forget it, I don’t want to know.” Stuck somewhere between horrified and amused, she gave it up as a lost cause and dropped back down to the mattress. Dealing with Han Solo was like having the gravity generators switched on and off without warning; half the time, she couldn’t tell which end was up.

_You might as well get used to it. Scoundrel, remember?_


	17. Chapter 17

Something outside the normal sounds of the _Millennium Falcon_ in flight brought Han out of a deep sleep and in an instant he was on guard, his keen senses focused on his familiar surroundings, listening for the slightest hint of danger while his mind rehearsed the moves it would take to retrieve the spare blaster from the drawer beneath his bunk. The strange sound happened again—a whimper only centims away from his ear—and as awareness returned, he relaxed, realizing the source of the odd noise. Curled up and spooned with him, her smooth bare back pressed up against his torso, Princess Leia occupied a corner of his pillow. With his free arm still draped over her slim waist, knees drawn up behind hers, he was surprised to discover he was cuddling. In his previous sexual encounters, actual sleeping wasn’t something he’d ever had the luxury or inclination to do. A satisfied smile now emerged as specific memories of how she’d ended up resting beside him filled his mind.

_If this is a dream, it sure qualifies as one of your better ones._

There was another soft moan and his pleasant blur vanished—that was a sound of distress. Was she crying? Had he hurt her after all? Sudden worry clenched at his heart. “Leia?”

Getting no response, he leveraged up onto an elbow to peer down at her shadowed profile in the dim light and confirm she was still asleep.

Even now, despite the long-overdue consummation of their relationship and her being safe in his arms, she was out of his reach and suffering.

_That’s some ego you’ve got there. Did you really think just bedding her would fix all her problems?_

Dropping back down, he buried his face into his pillow.

_Bastards!_

He fought back the wave of pure rage he felt toward those responsible for tormenting her like this—for torturing her and leaving this legacy to haunt her nights. Her dreams were the one place he couldn’t protect her and it left him feeling frustrated, powerless. It made him want to throttle every Imperial from here to Coruscant, and if it meant she might someday sleep without fear, he’d gladly tear down the Empire single-handedly. He still didn’t give a damn about the rest of the universe but he’d fight for her; he’d fight without hesitation because there wasn’t anything he could imagine more worthwhile.

_Where do I sign up for that, huh?_

Yet another distraught whimper called Han into action. Having no recourse, he pressed his lips near her ear and repeated what had seemed to help a two nights ago; he simply talked. “Sshhh, Leia. It’s okay. I’m right here…. I’m right here, Sweetheart. Tell them to fuck off.”

Imagining what her reaction would be if she were awake made him grin, but he was a firm believer in the direct approach and there was no sense in being civil with monsters.

Still spooning her, he cupped the curve of her shoulder and held her closer as he repeated the comforting words, waiting for her to settle down and for the sound of deep breathing to resume, for her to grow peaceful.

Leia never spoke about what had happened on the _Death Star_ before they’d broken her out of her holding cell—not to him, not to Luke, not to anyone from what he knew. Standard procedure was for High Command to assign her a psychologist, but he’d heard that she avoided those sessions like she did the topic in general. What he did know was that she’d been through hell and that fact made him furious. Although he couldn’t blame her for never wanting to think about it again, her silence left him in the dark and sometimes his own imagination made that darkness worse. Sometimes, if he dwelt too long on the thought, he felt angry enough to do something stupid like smash a fist against an unyielding bulkhead, or attempt to rip apart Wookiee-style the first Imperial he came across, or accept one of those long-standing military commissions Rieekan kept offering him. Logic told him reactions like that, fueled by blind rage, would do no good, but his primal urge to avenge her had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with pure male instinct to protect a mate.

That possessive thought, and the newness of Leia’s body pressed against his, started to have an effect and his body responded despite his reluctance to disturb her. Vivid recollections from last night flooded his thoughts: the look of unveiled desire in her eyes, the moment she dropped her last barrier and removed his borrowed shirt to expose all of her soft curved flesh to him, her intoxicating scent, her eyes rolling back in ecstasy beneath his touch while moaning his name. It was a losing battle—he would succumb to temptation if he stayed any longer. He rolled away, determined to let her sleep, and glanced at the chrono mounted into a panel of the bunk wall. It was later than he’d thought. If he got up now, showered and shaved, then did a quick inspection tour of the ship, it’d be about the time to wake up anyway.

It took sheer willpower to climb out of the bunk, but he managed and paused to make sure she was still tucked in under the covers before heading for the fresher.

When Han emerged some time later, Leia still appeared sound asleep, although at some point she’d rolled onto her stomach, one arm stretched out toward him. Grabbing the clothing he’d abandoned in the middle of the floor the night before, he returned to the fresher to stuff them into the autovalet, then opened a storage locker for a clean pair of undershorts. He slipped them on and was nearly to the door when he heard a sigh and turned to watch her shifting around on his bunk, pale arms almost glowing in the dim red-tinged light. The sight was such a complete novelty—so much skin beneath the dark cloud of hair spilling around her shoulders—that it took a second for him to realize she’d awakened as her head lifted up and turned toward him.

“Han? What’s wrong?” Leia asked in a cautious whisper, hints of confusion and worry clouding her voice.

“Nothing, Sweetheart. Something woke me up. I’m going to check on the ship quick. Go back to sleep.”

She made a wordless sound, then shook her head and sat up, drawing the white sheet up with her. “No, I’m awake now. What time is it?”

“Oh-six-thirty.”

Despite her previous statement, she groaned at his answer and rubbed an eye with the heel of a hand.

“How did you sleep?”

“Better…. Everything seems better with you….”

Han barely contained a snort. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Ducking her head, she pulled the sheet a bit closer. “Neither can I. Ignore me.”

“Not possible.” Here was a side to Leia he’d always suspected but rarely seen, now fully realized just for him. He wanted to smooth his hand over her exposed shoulder, kiss her lips, and pull her back into his arms, but he restrained himself. Once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Instead, he gestured toward the door. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Where would I go?”

It was probably meant to be teasing, but her yawn made the comment sound innocent. With a last lazy smile, he hit the hatch stud and stepped out.

_Buddy, has your luck changed!_

After all this time, he’d begun to think it would never happen—that he was deluding himself over a year with the idea that she would have him. It was the utter truth when he told her he’d never wanted anyone so much. He couldn’t explain his growing fascination with this smart-mouthed, pint-sized, headstrong woman who attracted trouble like a supercharged magnet and carried more baggage than an intergalactic luxury cruise liner. The cynical part of him had become convinced that bunking her would quench that craving—that once he’d seduced her, he could leave her and move on, his insane itch satisfied. At some point over the past year or so, however, he’d begun wondering if that still wouldn’t be enough, that the craving might never be satisfied. Seeing her naked body in his bunk this morning had confirmed the suspicion. Hearing her dulcet voice confess how he made her feel left him wanting nothing more than to crawl back into her arms and immerse himself again. In his single-minded determination to have her, he’d fallen into his own trap, and what was more, he’d _liked_ it there!

Walking down the corridor toward the cockpit, he couldn’t help feeling elated. Every argument between them and every frustrated night he’d spent dealing with unresolved lust—all of it had been a small price compared to the payoff. Last night she had sought him out, offering herself up of her own accord, and he wouldn’t take that decision lightly; he knew the obstacles she’d overcome to reach this point, the emotional risks she faced. It caused a glow in his chest in the vicinity of his heart when he considered how she wanted him despite his shady career, his evident lack of pedigree, his idiosyncratic nature, and his pending departure. This fact, more than anything, left him feeling higher than a kid with his first crush.

And then there was the physical part—how she looked, how she responded to each caress, how she awakened every nerve ending as she rubbed her supple body against his, nearly making him explode that first time she touched him. It had taken every trick he knew and every ounce of his self-control to last as long as he had. She’d felt like liquid fire engulfing him. The very thought gave him a delicious shiver.

Han reached the cockpit and ran a quick systems check, but he didn’t linger. He was really only there to assuage any possible guilt later since he had no intention of returning to the cockpit any time soon. Next, he headed to the galley to draw a tumbler of water to bring back to the bunk. Finishing the circuit around the ship, he returned to the cabin and cycled open the hatch to find the main lights up to full and Leia standing near the spare bunk, wearing his white dress shirt once again. Already freshened up, she was in the middle of running a brush through her long hair.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“More than okay.” Moving past her to set the glass of water on the little recessed shelf above the head of his bunk, he turned back to once again take in the sight of her in his shirt. She looked even sexier now with all those implications of borrowing his clothing realized.

Without another word, he drew her into his arms, bending down to kiss her waiting lips. Leia was instantly malleable, just as he’d always imagined she would be, and that was all it took to make his arousal flare hot. He wanted—needed!—to feel her again, to lose himself inside her. The hairbrush clattered to the deck and there was no hesitation this time as her hands ran over his exposed torso, raking through his hair. There was a new desperation in her kiss, matching his impatience as he started pulling her shirt up, interrupting her explorations. Leaving her to find her own way out of the shirt now entangled over her head, his hands reclaimed her breasts. Then her mouth was back on his, alive and returning his hunger as her eager fingers wormed inside the waistband of his shorts before shoving them off his hips; they fell down around his ankles, already forgotten as her hands reached back to grip his ass, welding him hard against her, drawing a moan out of him. She was a quick study, all right, a discovery that came as no surprise, but he reveled in the confirmation. One of those slim hands wrapped around his ready erection, making him grunt as he arched into her. Not about to stop her this time, he probed her mouth with his tongue, matching her stroke. Rock-hard and throbbing within her grasp, he gave in to the power of his need by running a hand along the shapely leg already hooked around his, then hoisting her up in his arms. As her legs wrapped tight around his hips, slender arms around his neck, he navigated blind toward the closest bunk and nearly tripped when his feet tangled in the forgotten shorts; she didn’t seem to register the hitch, her mouth locked on his again. Kicking the shorts out of his way, he climbed into the bunk and deposited her on top of the blanket. He could already smell her arousal, the headiest perfume, even before his hand sought confirmation that she was ready for him, and his urgency to take her overrode everything else. With no fanfare other than another deep kiss, he was guiding himself back inside, thrusting all the way in, and she sang out in wordless pleasure, clutching at him, pulling him down to wrap her body around his. He drove into her again and was rewarded with a moan very different from the distressed one that had awoken him earlier—he needed to hear this new one, needed desperately to replace the old one in his mind with her renewed sounds of ecstasy as they undulated together. He gripped her shoulder for better leverage as his other hand slipped between them to stroke in time with his thrusts. Her beautiful face was a study in rapture, brown eyes opening now and again to meet his, reflecting his craving, and he could feel her beginning to clench up beneath him, her body trembling, and could see she was already as close as he was to a climax. Needing to do this, needing to push her past that last barrier before he could let go, he dropped his head to press his mouth to hers again before thrusting faster, knowing it was a race against time now. Then she broke away, gasping his name, and he barely had time to register her body rippling under him, around him, before he tumbled over the edge after her.

A tremor was still rolling through his body when he finally opened his eyes, lifting his head up from where it had fallen on her shoulder. “Leia,” he murmured, short of breath but needing to say her name, needing to confirm her reality. Sweat stung his eyes, making him squint as he rose up far enough to catch her expression of blissful wonder; she looked as dazed as he felt, and he could honestly say he’d never felt anything quite like that before. The lust? Sure. But the overwhelming need to possess someone both body and soul? Feeling like he was possessed? Never!

_That’s love. That’s the one thing in this whole equation you never figured on._

She brought up a hand to press it against his cheek, her dark eyes wide. “What was that?”

Han couldn’t help it; he started to laugh, and it was only a second before she joined him in the emotional release. “I’d call that a hell of a great way to start the day.”

Leia’s hands were all over him again, clearly not finished, and then he felt her give a deliberate squeeze around him, causing him to let out a surprised grunt of pleasure. Watching his expression, she gave another experimental clench. “How does that feel?”

“Wonderful.” The sensation wasn’t new, but the fact this was the princess took the act into a whole other realm of eroticism and he felt his fading erection stir, his passion reviving.

_As if you needed confirmation?_

Rolling his hips, he grinned at the renewed look of astonishment on her radiant face. “Is that a request for a royal command performance?”

“I wish you…ahh….” Whatever she was about to say melted away as she gave up the effort.

Hearing this woman grow so ineloquent was the best compliment of all. He made a few more strokes before slipping his arms around her and rolling onto his side, encouraging her to move with him. Were they in his wider bunk, the maneuver would have been much easier, but as it was it took them a few moments of shifting around before he was on his back with her resting on top.

Meeting his eyes, she looked somewhat hesitant as she lifted herself up off his chest onto her knees and hands, sitting astride him. Her long hair fell like a curtain over them, but then she reached up to gather it all so that it cascaded down over one shoulder. When he lifted his hips, needing the friction, she rose with him and then paused there as his hips dropped back to the bunk, letting him slide most of his length before she sank down, taking him all the way back in. The sight and sensation nearly sent him over the edge again. With her poised above him like that, her body flushed with excitement, lips swollen from his crushing kisses, eyes hooded and locked on his, he recognized he was lost. His life was altered, and for the first time in his rather empty life, he began to believe in the possibility of a Force soul mate. She was right—they did make a good team, in ways neither had anticipated.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his tone reverent and unmasked.

“I love you.”

She had blurted it out by mistake; the conflict of surprise, terror, and vulnerability that suddenly warred across her face was obvious. They ground to a halt, staring at one another for a timeless second while it felt as if an airlock had cycled open, letting the atmosphere out with a whoosh.

“I love you, too,” he said, and discovered it was so much more gratifying to tell her that when she was awake. Leia dropped down onto his chest, burying her face into the hollow between his neck and shoulder, but not before Han caught a glimpse of uncertainty in her expression. To erase all doubt, he turned his face to speak softly against her ear. “Leia, I love you.”

She drew up onto her hands once more to meet his eyes, and he saw pure relief and joy there. Then her mouth found his.

It felt as if waves of emotion were radiating off of her like a force field, engulfing him. He gave up trying to understand any of this anymore; it was all so outside his experience, beyond anything he’d imagined or wanted before. The physical pleasure was there, familiar and powerful, but this…? He’d never anticipated being swept up with her. It was like winning the Galactic Grand Lottery. Twice.

_You knew she was incapable of half-measures. You knew she’d dive into this with the same intensity she pours into every other cause she takes on. It’s no wonder she was afraid of this—she was right to fear it with you._

He knew of no better way to demonstrate his own feelings than to drive his hips upward again, lifting her up, showing her just how much she affected him. As she responded and they fell into an instinctual rhythm, he let her take control, overjoyed as she writhed above him, learning what gave them both pleasure and losing herself in the effort.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his hands roaming her heated body, massaging her breasts as she rode him harder in search of yet another release, wanting nothing more than to give it to her. He recognized the signs and knew she was close, could see the look of absorption and pleasure in her expression, and as her pace increased, he could feel his own climax fast approaching—but this was another race he was determined to let her win. She didn’t make him wait long, and the supernova that had been building up within him flared white, overloading his system as he grabbed her hips and pumped into her.

Shaking, Leia lowered herself onto his chest, and while he loved the weight of her on top of him, she suddenly felt hotter than a core reactor going critical. Taking hold of her shoulders, he kissed her forehead then guided her off to the blind side of the bunk, their union finally broken. Despite feeling spent and breathing hard, he couldn’t help laughing again.

Sprawling out onto her stomach as much as the narrow bunk would allow, Leia seemed to regain her wits faster than her breath, although she still looked a bit overwhelmed, as if not very sure what to make of it all. “What’s so funny?”

“Guess I should’ve planned this a little better. I could really use that glass of water right now….”

“Oh.” After lifting her head just high enough to see over him, she groaned and dropped it back down. “It _is_ awfully far away, isn’t it?”

“Parsecs.” Eyes closed, he exhaled loudly, his heart still racing even as the postponed postcoital lethargy caught up to him with a vengeance, leaving him drowsy. He barely noticed her move beside him, then his eyes shot wide open when she began climbing back on top. “Leia, I’m gonna need more time!”

“Hush. I’m going to get the water, Hotshot.”

“Oh.” Chuckling in relief, his head lolled to the side as he watched her lithe form dismount and pad over to the other bunk to retrieve the glass from the shelf. Her body was fantastic, breasts proportioned and limbs toned just right for her petite size. He knew that was more due to dedicated combat training than out of any sense of vanity. Sometimes, from the way she acted when he complimented her, he suspected she never considered just how naturally beautiful she was.

_She’s going to give you a run for your money. You’d better be ready to keep pace._

Taking a long drink of water before passing him the glass, Leia then dipped down to retrieve the abandoned hairbrush. “I’ll be right back,” she said before disappearing into the fresher.

After getting up onto an elbow and taking a big swig, he took another mouthful and reclined once more, closing his eyes and holding the cool water in his mouth for a long moment to rehydrate before swallowing.

_I don’t know what you did to deserve her, but you’d better not blow this._

She had picked him, giving what was probably the last of her innocence to him, and he was pretty sure that made him the luckiest man in the known universe. He only hoped he could live up to the honor.

The fresher door opened again and Leia reappeared. Pausing to grab the loose blanket from his usual bunk, she brought it with her as she climbed back over him and then stretched out, pulling the cover over them both. There followed a long, peaceful moment of shared silence as she snuggled up against his side, like some long-lost puzzle piece falling into place.

_If humans could purr like a Trixian kitten, I’m pretty sure we’d both be doing it right now._

Han had begun to doze off when her soft voice drew him back to the present.

“I love you.” It sounded cautious, as if testing to see if his reaction might change, but there was no question of her intent this time.

“I know.” Tipping his head to find her gaze, Han’s smile was genuine. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You know that?”

What he got in return was a new expression from her, something between bemused disbelief and astonishment, as though she couldn’t imagine ever being that important to him. “Me? Even when I’m driving you crazy?”

“Especially then.”

Leia grinned then closed her eyes while sliding a hand along his chest until it rested over his heart, where it rose with each breath. “That’s funny. I was thinking the same thing.”


	18. Chapter 18

Standing in the middle of the crew’s quarters and holding a folded blanket still warm from the autovalet, Leia watched Han make the bunk, her smile no doubt a bit dopey and her mood mellow.

_“Satiated” is probably the more appropriate term. You’re also besotted. Smitten. A goner._

They were just starting the second week now, only a quarter of the way into their long slog through the Anoat System, and life had fallen into a routine—if anything about the novelty of living in close quarters with Solo could be called “routine.”

She’d entered into this situation with very little idea of how things would change aboard ship after climbing into Han’s bunk. It had been a huge risk for a variety of reasons, the most glaring being that they were two strong personalities trapped in a small vessel for a long time; if her gamble didn’t work out, things could get very ugly very fast. But other than an obvious divergence from their old pattern of squabbling, little else seemed different. Their days were spent continuing with various repairs, doing basic chores, taking long breaks for meals, and sometimes just lounging around reading, playing games, and talking.

_Lots of talking. That may be my favorite part. Well, almost._

Still prone to silence about his past unless Chewbacca brought up something specific, Han was quite happy to talk about anything else and many hours were spent huddled together on the acceleration couch in the lounge, on his lap in the cockpit, or reclined in his bunk as they teased and learned about one another. Staving off boredom might have been their biggest challenge before the change, but there wasn’t enough time in the day now.

The other big change, of course, was what they did when they stopped talking. The introduction of frequent groping sessions, which seemed to occur whenever and wherever the mood struck, definitely kept the dull factor down to a minimum. It came as a relief to discover that he couldn’t get enough of her, either.

Today, Leia had spent the morning helping the two smugglers replace aging gaskets around the hatches of the hidden smuggling compartments beneath the flooring of the circular corridor, meant to keep them from creaking and echoing. After lunch, she’d trailed behind Han as he conducted more mundane shipboard duties, doing her part by lending a hand.

From infancy, Leia had been surrounded by attendants and service droids to take care of such humdrum chores, and even after her immersion in the nomadic existence of a fugitive, she’d had little need to devote her time to such things. Following her arrival on the Yavin base, General Dodonna had assigned her an orderly, but no sooner had she rejected this as a waste of valuable resources than Luke had foisted Threepio upon her, his reason being that she had more use for a protocol droid who could double as a personal assistant. She wasn’t convinced his motives were altruistic, though, because every time she sent Threepio off on an errand to assist Luke—or Han, if she felt like irritating him—in no time she would find the obnoxious droid back in her quarters tidying up her cot, handling her laundry, or organizing her desk.

Here on the _Falcon_ , with everyone aboard happy to leave the deactivated droid silently occupying the abandoned communications station, she found herself chipping in on a variety of menial tasks for the first time. In an odd way, she found it refreshing, although she suspected that sentiment would wear off soon enough. She’d even managed to put together a couple of meals, despite her concern over squandering precious food in cooking experiments; with Han’s guidance, the results had been passable, even though he was arguably as much a distraction as a help in the cramped galley.

_Just look at all the new skills you’re learning on this trip._

That thought almost made her laugh out loud.

She found endless fascination in watching Han, a man whom she’d always known to be restless, action-oriented, and anything but domestic, doing uninteresting but necessary duties like swabbing the deck plates or changing the linens on their bunk.

_Our bunk._

Leia smirked at the possessive thought. She liked the sound of that.

Here was an unanticipated facet to the man she loved—seeing him fiddle with the top sheet until it was perfectly smooth and taut. No question but this was a legacy of his drilling in the Academy.

_Don’t even bother. He’ll deny any implication that he should become a military leader within the Alliance. Just be happy in knowing that he could._

Right now, she was amused by the effort Han expended on this particular task and was fighting a contrary urge to push him back onto the bunk and muss it up.

Han straightened up and turned, about to ask for the blanket, but paused when he saw her impish expression. “What are you thinking?”

“Who, me?”

Too late she realized she might as well have set off the hull-breach alarm because now she had Han’s full attention. He waited, hazel eyes narrowing at her.

Leia caved. “Why do you bother?”

“With what?”

She pointed at the bed. “We’re only going to mess it up in a few hours. It seems like a lot of work for nothing.”

For a moment, the captain gave her a look as though she’d just spoken in tongues. “Fine. Starting right now, Your Worship, you’re in charge of making the bunks.”

“Fine. And don’t call me that.” That last directive was tacked on out of pure habit as he’d demonstrated no inclination to stop using that particular title—in fact, it seemed his standard go-to whenever he wanted to tweak her.

Reaching out to grip her shoulders, Han pulled her up against his chest, her crossed arms and the blanket sandwiched between them. As he started a languorous kiss on her mouth that migrated to the area below her ear, her resolve began to melt.

_Leave it to Han to not fight fair._

The moment she moaned, he pulled her around and tipped her off-balance, causing her to fall back onto the just-made sheets with a shriek of laughter. “No sense in waiting,” he growled as he crawled onto the bunk after her.


	19. Chapter 19

Leia once again stood in the center of the cabin, arms loaded with laundered clothing fresh from the autovalet as she stared at their bunk. Han was off assisting Chewbacca with something in the forward hold, trying to fix whatever was rattling in the air circulation system. While she loved every minute spent wallowing in his attention, she was glad for the occasional break alone so she could clear her mind. That, and the clattering noise really was driving her a bit mad.

Despite vague images of lingering nightmares, she felt like she was sleeping better. Whether she could chalk that up to simple physical fatigue after enthusiastic lovemaking or the reassuring feeling of Han holding her through the night was still up for debate, but she was content with either conclusion. The sensation of waking up next to him was something that made her feel richer than any of the wealth in her previous life. Her snuggling smuggler…or was that smuggling snuggler?

_You are doomed to wear this foolish smile every time you think about him, aren’t you?_

Never having allowed a close inspection and analysis of her feelings for Han until this trip, she wanted to explore them all now, to examine what they meant in her life and marvel at what he managed to generate within her after over a year of intentional emptiness. Maybe it was just her imagination, but that change seemed to show in her reflection in the mirror and she couldn’t help but wonder if this would be obvious to others once they reached civilization.

Like any other teenager, she’d indulged in the dreamy holovids and stories of finding a man to love and build a future with, even though she was forced to repress it out of necessity when duty called. At that time, she’d believed in the power of love and, more importantly, she’d believed it would happen to her someday.

Sadly, those dreams had seemed to die along with Alderaan. She’d resumed the fight for the Rebellion with renewed vigor for the greater good, but she no longer believed she would live to see the end of the war. There seemed little point in dreaming about some happy future when there appeared to be nothing personal left in the balance, nothing waiting for her at the other end.

The simultaneous introduction of Han, Luke, and Chewbacca into her life and their growing importance within it had helped to assuage that loss. They were like a lifeline around her waist, pulling her along, sometimes against her will, but it was Han in particular who remained single-minded in his resolve to rescue her. He’d confronted her unspoken despair as if determined to fill the vacuum where her heart had been, daring her to feel again. For the longest time, she was perplexed by why such a self-proclaimed loner cared or bothered, and yet he had. Maybe he’d sensed and sympathized with her lost dreams, or maybe he’d just been drawn to fix what was clearly broken within her. For whatever reasons, he hadn’t quit her, and now in some corner of her mind, a new kernel of hope had sprouted. To imagine that someday they could both stop running and be together like this, far longer than just a few weeks, gave her a new goal and enthusiasm.

Leia knew on some level that their situation aboard the _Falcon_ wasn’t realistic—that they were for all practical purposes sealed away from the truths of their lives during this long trek to Bespin. Too soon it would end and they would have to face all those challenges once more, this time from a new and unfamiliar footing. She hoped they were prepared and strengthened by their evolving relationship rather than weakened by the emotional exposure. Perhaps their shared hardships over the past fifteen months would temper their bond, making it that much stronger.

Standing there, arms full of the clean clothing they shared, she knew her life was altered, and while it had not come full circle—it never could—it had undergone another tectonic shift. Despite the extraordinary connection she now felt with Han, she knew he’d had plenty of sexual partners; it was obvious in his skill and confidence. She didn’t dare ask him if coupling was always like this because she was afraid he might say yes. Instead she wanted to believe this was special, different. Maybe it was because they’d waited so long while hashing out their personal hang-ups, or maybe it was because of all that shared adversity of their past and the emotional bonding that was bound to happen as a result. Perhaps it was destiny, if one was prone to believing in things like the Force.

Was Han the man she’d dreamt of in her more idealistic youth? He could be a gentleman when it suited his mood. Was theirs a romance anyone would want to watch in a holodrama? Hardly, unless living in unpleasant conditions, barely avoiding any number of sudden violent deaths, and arguing about whether he would disappear one day for good could be considered romantic. She certainly didn’t think so and felt sorry for anyone who did. But he _had_ saved her life a few times. He was also rakishly handsome and prone to ravishing her with little warning.

_What’s not to love?_

Leia grinned at that.

_You’ve got it bad. You were doomed the moment he suggested going back into your cell if you didn’t like his methods. What other man would’ve said that to a princess?_

Snapping out of her little reverie, Leia moved over to the side and popped open the hatch of the upper storage locker where Han stored his clothing. Conscious of his tendencies, she stowed away the various pieces in neat order, then paused. There was an unsurprising collection of brown, black, and blue trousers, most of them with that eye-catching Corellian Bloodstripe, the obsolete sign of a Spacer’s Guild member, running down the outside seams. Someday she would have to ask why he still insisted on wearing it. Was it out of a sense of tradition or just a way to thumb his nose at the Empire for disbanding the guild over a decade ago?

There was also an assortment of work and dress shirts, nondescript boxer-briefs, and mostly normal socks. None of it was out of the ordinary or anything she hadn’t seen him wear at some point, but that was just this locker and there were five others within the crew’s quarters, plus the single drawers under each bunk. Biting her lower lip, she wondered if peeking into the other cabinets amounted to prying. Hadn’t she earned the right to look a little? He had invited her to anything on the ship, hadn’t he?

_Besides, we’ve explored every naked centim of each other’s bodies in the past week—you can’t get much more intimate than that._

Closing the door on the upper locker, Leia skipped the two lower cabinets, already knowing one contained bed linens, towels, and extra toiletries, while the other was where he stored his thermal clothing, jackets, and shoes. All of it was stowed away for fast and easy access. No surprise, considering the nature of his training and current lifestyle. Despite the chaos that tended to surround him, or maybe because of it, his life was orderly in here.

With a sigh, beginning to wonder if this was yet another dead end in her attempts to learn more about Han Solo, Leia reached to pull open the second upper door and was instantly glad she’d stuck with the search.

The hero’s medal she’d draped around his neck back on Yavin IV, only a day after they’d met, hung from the inside of the door and banged against the metal as she swung it open. She was surprised to see it at all, let alone displayed among his personal items. For over a year he’d taunted her with various demises for the rather tacky award—everything from pawning it to buy a substandard bottle of Novarian brandy, to macro-fusing it to the sublight engine housing to plug up a coolant leak. Yet all this time it must have hung here, a reminder whenever he opened the locker.

With a wry smile, Leia shook her head.

_Between this and the Bloodstripe, he’s much more sentimental than I thought._

Peering around, taking in the mysterious odds and ends stashed away in compartmented trays and shelves, she paused to admire an elegant man’s ring she’d never seen him wear. There were various little trinkets that must have held some memory or value to him but only generated curiosity for her. There was a second datapad, no doubt of a more personal nature than the public one out in the lounge; she wasn’t about to touch that without his permission. Besides, the Goddess only knew what might be on it. Lining the back of the cabinet were two racks of holodisks with cryptic labels, and although those caught her attention, they were something she’d have to investigate another time. One of the disks in particular caught her eye, the label nothing more than a handwritten date—her Majority Day from nearly a year ago. Curiosity winning out over caution, she reached in and pulled it out from the stack, then hesitated a moment to glance at the closed cabin door as she experienced a twinge of guilt before triggering the holodisk.

There was a bluish-white glow, and then they appeared—she and Han, the night they’d celebrated the coincidence of both her and Luke reaching Majority at the same time, when what had started as a small party for Luke among the pilots had swelled into a base-wide spontaneous excuse to blow off steam. There was loud music, lots of voices and laughter, and much alcohol—much more than she had suspected was authorized or available on the Serricci base. In the holo, they were both holding mess hall tumblers and sipping a sweet but potent beverage she’d never been able to identify, most likely brewed in someone’s private quarters; they’d already imbibed plenty by the time the recording was taken because they both showed that telltale glazed expression and swayed ever-so-slightly. With his arm wrapped around her waist, his large hand gripping her hip and his fingers visibly digging into her at times, while her own arm was buried somewhere beneath his black utility vest, they looked thoroughly blitzed. The big smile plastered across her face matched Han’s as they laughed at something off to her side, then suddenly, Han bent down to say something to that younger Leia, but his words were lost to the background noise. There was no missing her reaction, however—she let out a raucous laugh that would have made her court tutors blanch, swatted playfully at his shoulder, then tugged at his arm and snuggled against his side as he landed a kiss on her temple. They both paused then, simply gazing at one another.

The holo flickered and ended, snapping Leia out of her trance. Unable to tell which was more shocking—the fact that they looked so relaxed and happy together, even back then, or that she couldn’t remember the incident—she closed her mouth and triggered the holo again.

His smile. Her laugh. She strained to hear whatever it was that man had said to that faraway young woman to make her laugh like that, despite a day she remembered more as a sad milestone of the passing year and what seemed a hopeless life ahead. But here was Han, breaking through her despair for yet another rescue, and someone had captured it in a holo; it was priceless evidence of everything he had become to her.

Leia played it again.

She’d never seen them together like this, as a couple, and how others must have perceived them that night: happy, comfortable, natural. She fit beneath his arm like she belonged there, and they looked good together. No wonder the tongues on base had started wagging. No wonder she had found herself fighting a growing wave of gossip and suggestive hints. She recalled with a wince that Han had heard them, too, and had unwisely confronted one of the worst culprits, nearly resulting in his expulsion from the Serricci base. Even if there’d been nothing to it at the time, the personnel on base were in such desperate need of entertainment that they’d latched onto the idea of a heated affair blossoming between two of their most visible and heroic residents, and refused to let it die. Every moment they were spotted together, no matter how benign, had fed the rumor mill. All those fears of becoming attached to the smuggler, all her efforts to deny theirs was anything more than a business relationship or mere friendship—all of it had been undone by a tumbler of jungle jet juice.

_No wonder no one believed you anymore. It’s so obvious._

Leia could do little more than shake her head. How appropriate. How typical. She was the last to see it, and that fact seemed to encapsulate their entire relationship in an ironic metaphor.

_You’ve been such a fool._

Had Han watched this holo over and over again in fascination as she’d just done, perhaps wishing things could be different? It was no surprise why he’d kept the recording a secret; until now, she wouldn’t have believed him, or at best she might have passed it off as a drunken mistake, ruining his illusion.

_No more denials. No more rejecting of your instincts and feelings. All that’s ever accomplished is unnecessary pain, and it fooled no one._

Lesson learned, she returned the holodisk to the stack and closed the locker door, done with exploring. She suddenly wanted companionship again. Maybe the boys could use her help with that rattling AC system after all.


	20. Chapter 20

Dinner on the sixteenth day was a grim milestone of sorts—the last of the Nerf steaks. By general consensus, Han had the honor of preparing them and he didn’t let his diners down. He almost never drank while in flight, but tonight he broke out a bottle of Corellian wine to commemorate the occasion, while the princess contributed by finding some appropriate music on the _Falcon_ ’s computer at the engineering station. The three of them now sat around the table, savoring the last of their meal as conversation lulled for a moment. He’d come to love this time, their sitting together to eat and share, like a family, and he supposed they were family in a way. Sometimes he found himself thinking that, if circumstances were different, he might have even considered asking Leia if she would be interested in making that bond legitimate.

_Crazier things have happened._

There was a sound at Han’s side, from where the lady in question sat within arm’s reach, her thigh pressed against his. He noticed she was staring down at her plate, fork still in hand, but he could feel her body shaking with silent laughter.

“What?” he prompted.

Leia shook her head, her laughter no longer silent, but both he and Chewbacca kept staring at her, waiting for an explanation. When she still didn’t confess, he prodded her with an elbow. “All right. Come on, what’s so funny?”

Leia poked at the last bite of her steak before mumbling, “Nerfherder.”

Chewie choked on his mouthful, and Han had to laugh as well at the random memory. “Yeah, that was a pretty good one, Your Worship. You got a point for originality.”

“You were being such a pain.” When she looked up, the obvious affection he found in those impossibly dark eyes made his pulse quicken, as did her free hand that simultaneously found its way over into his lap. She’d learned early on that this was an excellent way to get his undivided attention, and she never passed up an opportunity. “I was inspired.”

“Glad I was there for you, Sweetheart.”

Leia’s mood sobered in an instant as her hand slid forward to stop on his knee. Looking back down to her plate, she used her fork to make a pattern in the rehydrated mashed root vegetable. “You’ve always been….”

Still in the middle of finding something witty to say, it took a moment before the deeper meaning of her words sank in and Han stopped, out of momentum.

_You asked for that. Some things haven’t changed and you’d do everybody a favor by keeping that in mind._

He glanced to Chewie for support, but the Wookiee had found something new and fascinating in the recessed controls of the holochess table. Turning back, he debated what to say. Not only had they failed to discuss the future since the night she’d climbed into his bunk, but they seemed to be actively avoiding it.

“Do you remember that party the night of my Majority?” she asked suddenly, and Han felt one of his eyebrows tick up, surprised by the sudden tangent.

How could he forget? Almost from the day they’d met, he’d wanted to bunk her—he’d propositioned and teased because…well, that’s what he did. And for a little while, she’d played along, handling his flirting like the professional diplomat she was, dismissing it as inappropriate but harmless behavior. But it wasn’t long before something began to change between them, the game growing more serious as he’d started meaning it and she’d started dodging it, maybe because she’d meant it as well. Those pent-up feelings had finally manifested in some very observable behaviors the night of that party, and afterward, he’d known he wanted more than just a one-night fling, while she’d shifted from amused tolerance to self-conscious and overheated denial.

“Sure, I remember,” Han drawled. “You could barely stand, so Keris and I took you back to your quarters, dumped you into your cot, and I pulled your boots off. Keris and I had a little chat about my _intentions_. You said some interesting things and then passed out.”

“What did I say?” Cheeks reddening, her head made a demure little dip. Although she was clearly embarrassed to learn they’d had a very attentive witness that night and that she’d been the topic of such a conversation between the two, the news didn’t prevent her hand from resuming the meandering trail along his thigh. That was always a good sign in his book.

“Something about needing a personal servant and wanting to see my credentials. But I figured that was the booze talking.”

There was a definite snort from the direction of the astutely disinterested Wookiee, while Leia stared at him in cautious disbelief. “I did not say that….”

“You don’t remember?”

“No…but I did not say _that_.”

“Suit yourself, but I started padding my resume the next morning.”

“You are such a—” She stopped, still unsure if he was baiting her or telling the truth or if it was a mixture of both. “Fine, well, evidently I don’t remember most of that evening…. I found a holo in your locker the other day.”

“Ah, that.” It was Han’s turn to feel a little self-conscious. He hadn’t forgotten about the holo—it was something he’d watched countless times whenever in need of a fix. Then he noticed that Chewie was watching them with blatant curiosity. “The one you took that night, Buddy,” he clarified.

«Oh, _that_ one.»

Distracted, Han frowned. “Of course ‘ _that_ one.’ What other one did you think we were talking about?”

Chewbacca rolled his blue eyes and shrugged, implying it could have meant anything.

“Pervert,” Han accused with a smirk.

Giving Han a pointed look, Chewbacca said, «I’m not the one testing out every flat surface on this ship like a pair of oversexed Zeltrons.»

Leia’s fork dropped with a clatter and her wandering hand disappeared in an instant, her look mortified. Not knowing whether to defend her honor, laugh at Chewie’s good taunt, or be annoyed by the interrupted caress, Han erred on the side of the one that kept him warm at night. “Hey! Show some respect, huh?”

“Chewie, I’m so sorry!”

“He’s just jealous, Sweetheart. Don’t—”

Pulling a discreet distance away from Han, her cheeks burning, Leia was obviously taking the comment personally. “No, no, he’s right. It’s very inconsiderate.”

Han swung back towards his partner, now annoyed for real. “Oh, for Sith’s sake! Now look what you’ve started, you big mop head.”

Chewie held up his hairy mitts in supplication. «I’m sorry, Princess. Don’t worry. I still prefer this to all the arguing.»

Burying her face in her hands, Leia’s blush was radiating so hot that Han wondered if the bulkhead paint might blister. “We’ll be more careful, Chewie. I promise. It’s not fair that—”

“Not fair?” Han interrupted while jabbing a thumb at the Wookiee. “You should see what he’s like with his wife whenever we make port on Kashyyyk. It’s _awkward_!” With that he reached out to slide his arm around Leia’s shoulders and pull her back, despite her newfound reluctance. “Come on. Don’t pay any attention to him. I told you, he’s a troublemaker. He’s just teasing and you’re not used to it yet.”

“Still,” she said in a quiet tone before risking a slanted look up at both of them. “It _is_ rude. You’re a bad influence.”

That made Han smile. If he knew Leia, she was already adapting. “I thought that’s why you liked me.”

“No, that’s why you _think_ I like you. It’s all still a mystery to me.”

Chewie howled with laughter and Han shot him a dirty look as he nudged Leia’s leg with his own. “Nice. So now you’re trying to solve the mystery by snooping through my lockers?”

Tipping her head to give a very politic answer, she returned her attention to the remnants of her meal. “I wasn’t snooping. I was researching. And you did invite me….”

“Yeah, I guess I did. So, what did you find out?”

“You’ll be relieved to know that you remain a complete enigma.” Leia made a fair attempt at keeping her tone light but failed at hiding her real disappointment. This was an issue that still made her pensive, and he supposed she had a right to be.

_She’s finally accepted you without knowing anything, without any conditions. Maybe it’s time you showed some faith in return._

Sighing, Han glanced over to find Chewie watching him again, no doubt thinking the same thing.

“What do you want to know, Leia?”

Looking genuinely surprised by his offer, she hesitated, which was understandable considering his usual reaction. “Do you have any family?”

Although he’d suspected this might be one of her eventual questions, the fact it was her first told him a great deal about where her thoughts had been dwelling lately. His first instinct was to say that Chewie was all the family he needed—it had been his pat answer for over a year and it wasn’t a lie—but she deserved the full truth. “Yeah, both parents are still around, and a younger brother and sister. They’re all on Corellia, but I cut ties a long time ago.”

As she held his gaze in silence, he could see a glint of sorrow in her eyes, some of it for his sake, but he suspected she was also thinking of her own family—all those ties forever severed and not by choice. Then he watched the most subtle of changes come over her expression as her eyes flicked toward Chewbacca. “So you _weren’t_ orphaned as an infant and raised by Wookiees?”

Letting loose a triumphant whoop, Han flopped his hand palm-up on the tabletop in front of his suddenly sour-looking copilot. “Pay up, Pal. I _told_ you the Kid couldn’t keep that to himself.”

«Circumstantial at best. I’ll need to see more proof.» Sliding out from the table in avoidance, Chewbacca started collecting up their abandoned plates.

Leia’s narrowed eyes were shifting from him to Chewie in angry disbelief, and then she shook her head. “A mystery to me….” Moving out of his reach and off the bench to stand, Leia then stopped there, both fists planted on her hips. She waited for him with what he now recognized was only mild outrage that she was happy to relinquish with a kiss; it was just another complicated step in the dance they’d started weeks ago.

“Aw, come on, Sweetheart,” Han coaxed as he followed her and got to his feet. Catching one of her hands, he used it to pull her up against him, assuming the lead in a close-dance position. “What I would’ve paid to see the look on your face when Luke told you that story….”

“Well, it certainly explained a lot,” she protested in her own defense. Sparing a glance toward the galley to make sure Chewbacca was out of sight, she gripped his belt and jerked him closer, a not-so-subtle indication that all was already forgiven.

Encouraged, he guided her toward the engineering station, dropped into the high-backed seat, and then tugged her toward him. She crawled up onto his lap to sit astride facing him, legs fitting beneath the armrests at his sides while her hands came to rest on his shoulders. This was a favorite spot for them since it was more comfortable than the acceleration couch and they could face one another. He eased a finger inside the neckline of her loose shirt and started to pull down. “I was nineteen when Chewie’s family took me in, if that counts for anything.”

Leia swatted his hand away like a coquettish date, unwilling to let him distract her—not when she was finally getting answers. Leaning further back, she laced her fingers behind his neck. “After you were kicked out of the Academy?”

“A little while after, yeah.”

She appeared to do a little mental calculating. “That would be right around the same time you suddenly started appearing on the Imperial records….”

_She’s circling in like a prowling Pantera on a scent trail._

Han’s hesitation was pure instinct, as was his tendency to deflect at all costs, but he forced himself to relax. What harm could come now from her knowing the truth? “Yeah, not long after that.”

“‘Han’ is a common-enough Corellian name,” she speculated. “I imagine you didn’t bother changing that…but ‘Solo’ isn’t at all. That would explain why you’re not in any records from the Academy…. ‘Solo,’ as in ‘alone’…. You couldn’t have come up with something a little less obvious?” That last comment she added with a teasing smile.

“I was nineteen. It sounded cool.”

Giving a little shake of her head, as though she might never understand testosterone, Leia waited a beat before voicing the obvious follow-up. “Will you tell me your real name?”

Aware of the door he was about to open, Han swallowed. “Kuat.”

It had been so long since he’d felt any connection to it that the name sounded foreign to his own ears.

“‘Kuat,’” Leia echoed, as if needing a moment to let that bit of knowledge soak in, to let it bounce around in her brain a little as she recalibrated her understanding of who he was. Then other associations began clicking into place, and he could read it on her face as easily as on a comp screen. He might have laughed were it not so serious.

“Kuat…. Not _the_ Kuats, as in the Kuat Drive Yards?” Eyes growing wider, she took his silent inaction for an affirmative and sat up straighter on his lap. “Goddess, _that’s_ what Chewie meant? _That’s_ how you knew about the blind spot on the Star Destroyers…?”

“Leia, I know what you’re thinking and you might as well forget about it. We disowned each other a long time ago. There’s no use getting your hopes up.”

She opened her mouth to probably voice a protest at his conclusion, halted as if maybe realizing he was right, and then closed it as she reconsidered.

While Han knew it wasn’t necessary, he added in a quieter tone: “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell High Command. It’s none of their damned business.”

Her response was just as quiet, but a clear affirmation. “I keep secrets. This was just for me.”

A corner of his mouth eased up into a fond grin. Leia could indeed keep a secret better than most, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be pulling up his real name in a datapad search the instant she had five minutes to herself—that was what made her who she was.

“What happened…?” she prompted him to go on.

Releasing a sigh, he ran his hands along the sides of her thighs as he surrendered to the inevitable interrogation. Then again, as one of her hands began working its way through his hair, he couldn’t imagine a more pleasant way to be grilled. “At the Academy or with the family?”

“Whatever you want to tell me.”

It was funny—now that he’d committed to this, he found himself wanting to tell her everything. “I was a massive disappointment to the family. They were grooming me to take over the business but I had no interest in sitting behind a desk. I wanted to fly.”

Her gentle smile was so beautiful that it was almost enough to make him forget what they were talking about. Why, in all the hells of Kessel, had it taken them so long to reach this point?

“It’s in your blood,” she observed. “I know the feeling.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t see it that way. I was shipped off to the Academy to drill some discipline into me. Sure, I got to fly there, but I was restless and did some really dumb stuff, too. Odd thing was, I never got into much trouble for it. Then I started moving up through the ranks faster than my buddies, getting cushy assignments and stuck behind some desk half the time anyway.”

Nodding in understanding, Leia was likely familiar with just how much influence the owners of the largest single military contractor could have within the Imperial Forces. “They were pulling strings for your advancement.”

“They already had my whole life mapped out for me: Graduate an officer, get some experience under my belt, come back a hero, take over the firm. Hell, they even had a wife picked out for me and announced our engagement before I was done with cadet training.”

He felt Leia twitch, as if she’d only just joined the conversation. Something in her reaction—Shock? Jealousy? Insecurity?—made him groan in delayed understanding. For some dumb reason, he’d thought she was immune to that sort of thing. He should have known better. Not only was she was still very new at this game, but she hadn’t exactly picked the most transparent partner or straightforward situation, either. Just because she avoided the topic of his past conquests like the Emperor avoided press conferences didn’t mean she was free of doubts about herself or him.

_As if I’ve even looked at another woman in the past year…._

“Engaged?” Leia’s question was timid, as if she couldn’t help herself and yet didn’t want to hear the answer.

“It was a long time ago, Leia. Her family had a lot of connections and we already knew each other, but it wouldn’t have worked for long. We were just kids.”

When she kept staring at some spot on his shirt, mind obviously far away, he waited a few moments before bouncing a leg to jostle her out of it. “Trust me, Your Worship, she wasn’t my type. I like ’em short and feisty.”

Too late Han realized his remark wasn’t the best compliment he’d ever paid her, if that change in her expression was anything to go by. Nevertheless, it did work to break her spell.

“You drive me crazy,” she said.

“I know.”

Shaking her head, appearing to fluctuate between irritation and curiosity, she conceded defeat and picked at the open collar of his shirt. “Go on. So you rebelled….”

“I guess so. That’s a nice way to put it.”

“How would you put it?”

“I committed treason and sabotage.” At her renewed look of shock, he shrugged again, feeling his voice grow more serious upon discovering that the memories still bore a bitter aftertaste. “My third assignment was on Kashyyyk, commanding a fighter escort. I watched the slavers in action and went a little crazy. Shot up some empty transports arriving for the latest shipment. That finally got everybody’s attention and I was drummed out.”

“I’m amazed _you_ weren’t put into shackles, or worse.”

“The best lawyers the family could buy, plus a hell of a lot of bribes.”

Leia just stared at him, as if struggling to absorb it all. While she would have been too young to remember the incident, he knew she would have heard of it—the government-sponsored slave trade had not stopped, but that was the first time the dark business was brought to the public’s awareness. Although the cries of outrage were quickly silenced and the riots crushed, it had fed the surge in Rebel recruitment and activity throughout the Empire.

“The classic spoiled rich kid,” she said under her breath, a clear hint of incredulity in her tone.

Han snorted. “Do I look rich to you?”

“No…but I always knew there was more to you than money.” Her palm pressed against his chest, as if touching a cherished heirloom.

“Lucky guess.”

Leia’s smile was indulgent, content to allow him this particular delusion. “Is that when you met Chewie?”

“Nah, I didn’t run into him until a little later, after I was out on my own. I got my first job as a red-eye-shift copilot on one of those big guild freighters flying out of Coronet.” His gaze settled, without seeing, on a spot over her shoulder as he recollected. “Chewie was part of the crew. We were on this one flight out of Commenor when the drive conked out and we were jumped by pirates. It was an inside job because they were waiting for us. We were all taken away to be sold as slaves, but a few of us managed to get away.” He paused and ran his hand along the outside of her thigh as he blinked back to the present. “He’s been my shadow ever since. Can’t get rid of him.”

«I heard that,» Chewbacca interrupted as he emerged from the galley, a steaming mug of kaffe in one of his furry mitts. «You say ‘get away’ like it was nothing special, but you saved most of the crew from a miserable fate that day.»

Han swiveled the chair to face his friend. “Yeah, but you’re the only one who decided it was worth a Life Debt.”

«Maybe I was the only one who realized you needed a shadow.»

As her eyes moved back and forth between him and the Wookiee, Leia acted as though she was seeing them both in a new light.

_Great, that’s all she needs—more hero talk._

He suspected the princess already had some pretty grandiose ideas of who he was, things he was sure he could never live up to. “Knock it off, Chewie, before she starts thinking I’m noble or something.”

«Don’t blame me for that.» With his usual aplomb, Chewbacca wished them a good night and headed for his cabin.

Han looked back at her, determined to make a preemptive strike. “I saw an opportunity and I took it—nothing noble about it.”

Leia tapped a fingertip on his chest, well-prepared for his dodge. “But you acted! That’s more than most people would do.”

“I’m no hero, Leia. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of.”

“We all have…. But I don’t think that necessarily cancels out the good. I think your heart’s in the right place.”

“Whatever you say.”

She gave him a look of exasperation that transformed into amusement. “That’s right. I like it when you agree with me.”

Spotting his opportunity, Han tipped his chin up toward her and dropped his voice lower than the deck plates. “Tell me what else you like.”

As a little smile animated the corners of her mouth, she hopped on his train of thought. “You know what I like.”

“I like it more when you say it.”

Leia’s playful gaze lingered on his for a tantalizing moment before she leaned forward to press her lips near his ear, her breath tickling his skin, making more than just his short hairs rise. Then she whispered something that would have made a once-proper princess burn brighter than a solar flare.

_She’s right. You_ are _a bad influence._


	21. Chapter 21

Leia hadn’t meant to do it. It just sort of happened.

Since their voyage had begun, she’d tried to dedicate a couple of hours each day to Alliance work—or as much as she could manage with the limited resources available. The research helped ease any lingering guilt over her absence, gave her a definable purpose, and kept her from losing all sense of reality on a trip that at times seemed too good to be true.

Dressed in Han’s white shirt and a pair of cutoffs, she sat propped up amongst the bank of pillows in their bunk, datapad and stylus in hand, with her bare knees arched over and resting on Han’s convenient legs. He was reclined at an angle from her, ankles crossed and dressed just enough to preserve his modesty, what little he still possessed—in this case, a pair of his black undershorts.

Leia was determined to work through the afternoon, even though Han had announced shortly after his arrival that he was giving up with repairs for the day. Then he’d joined her on the bunk with his own datapad, where he was proving to be a mostly innocent distraction as he made the occasional thoughtful grunt and ran an absent-minded hand along the closest patch of her exposed leg.

She tried to block him out as she scrolled through the latest business news out of Coruscant. Most of the media channels offered nothing for her purposes, but finding cash and supplies for a burgeoning rebellion required intuition, patience, and curiosity. She was no slouch with the intuition, and she freely admitted to needing practice with the patience, but a sense of curiosity was something she had in excess.

The quiet of the cabin was interrupted yet again by an amused sniff from beside her, making Leia glance up. Han was reading the schematics of the latest luxury star-yachts, or at least that was what he’d claimed when he climbed into the bunk some time ago. Now she suspected his reading material had changed—although, if anyone could find something funny about the innards of a starship, it would probably be Han. For a moment, she considered challenging him, but she settled instead for a warm smile while rubbing the sole of her foot along the top of his shin before refocusing on her own datapad screen.

_Mind over matter, Organa. Mind over matter._

She was onto a lead. Stock prices of a certain weapons system computer chip were flatlined due to a sudden surplus. The part was a vital component of many of the older ships the Rebellion used, and “surplus” was the magic word. The trouble on the market was due to a recent announcement from Chempat Engineered Defenses of an upgrade, something that threatened to make obsolete all the current Imperial contracts, as well as bringing to a halt any other ongoing negotiations for new contracts, both public and private. Thus, third-party suppliers found themselves looking to dump their stockpiles to make room for the new.

It was a coincidence that Chempat was jointly owned by Corellian Engineering Corporation and Kuat Drive Yards.

Surplus. Computer chips. Chempat. Corellia. Kuat.

It was a pure coincidence, really.

Giving Han another quick glance, as if he might sense where her research had taken her, she looked back down at her screen but was a bit unprepared for the sheer volume of material that came up under the name “Kuat.” It required the judicial application of several filters to eliminate competition and technical data, irrelevant business and political records, and any references more recent than a decade ago, until what was left were public relations announcements, mainstream news articles, gossip columns, and opinion pieces prior to the emergence of “Han Solo” onto the scene.

Sucking on the tip of her stylus for a moment, unable to think of a legitimate Alliance reason for exploring old history, Leia admitted to herself that she just wanted to know—to bind together some of those missing pages in Han’s life. Ever since learning his real name and history the day before, she’d been unable to think of much else, but the last thing she wanted to do was be obvious in her investigation. Maybe if she sneaked in a little now, just enough to satisfy some of that curiosity, then she could let it go and get back to her work. Besides, she reasoned, it wasn’t so much an urge to dig into his past as it was a desire to find holopics. Wanting to see what he looked like when he was younger seemed an innocent enough diversion.

It was a little extra work, but she narrowed down the search until she was left with a string of 2D images, culled from public archives, press releases, and official announcements. Due to the prominence of his family, there was a lot to peruse, but she began cycling through it.

There was an image of a teenage Han, dressed in an Academy uniform stripped of insignia, surrounded by what must have been family and powerful attorneys as they hurried from a courtroom in an attempt to duck the media recorders. There was also a series of other images taken during the court martial, and in them his expressions ranged from insolent to angry to miserable. Clearly, the incident had played a greater role in making Han who he was today than he would ever admit; maybe that was when the cynicism had gained a foothold?

There was a formal portrait of Han, complete with close-cropped hair and the high-tab collared gray tunic of a new Academy cadet, his look serious, with a straight nose and unscarred chin. He seemed so dissimilar, so very handsome in a different way, younger in that moment in time than she had been when they’d met. There was so much promise in his appearance, hints at the type of man he might have become before fate had intervened, although she couldn’t help feeling grateful that his career with the Empire had ended there, almost before it had begun—before it had tainted him the way it had so many others.

There was an informal shot of an adolescent Han and what must have been his siblings because of the shared resemblances, lounging around in a luxurious yet comfortable living room, probably taken in their family home. He was young enough to be almost unrecognizable except for the smile and eyes. A keen curiosity shone there, the sort of youthful excitement that made her beam in empathic response. She couldn’t help wondering if some day Han might have a son to resemble the boy in the image, and if that son would have any of his better characteristics or if he’d be more like his mother….

Leia closed her eyes for a moment, torn by her stray thought and the sense of longing and loss that seemed to grow with each day as those sorts of ideas kept slipping past her control.

She moved on and pulled up the next image.

There was another teenage Han, flashing a cocky smile and thumbs-up from the open cockpit of some Kuat-built star-fighter now long-obsolete. He looked so dashing, so sure of himself, and Leia realized she would have fallen for him no matter his age or her own. Something in that smile, that confidence, made her melt down like a fusion core.

There was Han, bare-chested on a tropical beach with another young man, both clowning around for the recorder. He was sporting an embarrassing attempt at a mustache. She shook her head with a grin, glad he’d abandoned the look; her preference was clean-shaved.

Then she found it—a post-scar Han, dressed in an impeccable formal civilian suit, posed with his arm around a tall, slender blond woman dressed in a stunning red gown with gold highlights. Her golden hair hung down in a cascade of gentle waves, and she wore a radiant smile while Han’s was more enigmatic, making it easy to read into it whatever one wanted.

Feeling as if she’d just climbed to the highest peak of a mountain range, where the rarefied air lacked enough oxygen to sustain life for long, Leia stared at the image and discovered too late that she wasn’t prepared for the string of emotions the image generated.

But why should she be surprised? Hadn’t this been her goal from the start, to satisfy that awakened craving to know not only what he had looked like then, but what _she_ had looked like?

And Leia _was_ fascinated, both by the young woman and by that inscrutable expression of Han’s. Was he happy? Had he loved her or was it really all arranged against his will? Although he’d said that they knew one another, he hadn’t indicated how well or in what context. Did he still think of her? Compare to her?

The blond was stunning, displaying the sort of elegance the Central Core touted as the epitome of human beauty, possessing all those physical attributes that Leia often felt she lacked—long legs and svelte height and ultrafeminine grace. Any man would have envied Han’s place beside her. Here was a woman who had never clambered around inside the greasy service pit of a star freighter, never plumbed the disgusting depths of a garbage chute on the _Death Star_ , never tramped through the mud and slush and underbrush of countless backwater planets wearing stained coveralls and ill-fitting uniforms while in search of safe havens and strategic vantage points. Leia almost felt as though they were members of different species, they were so disparate. How could she even remotely compete with that? What could have been bad enough to make Han walk away from that sort of perfection? What would it take to make him leave her as well?

_Stop it! Stop doing this!_

She hadn’t realized how tight her grip was on the stylus until it nearly bent in half.

_What were you thinking? What sort of crazy, childish, self-flagellating impulse made you—?_

A large hand alighted on her knee. “Hey, get a load of—”

Leia let out a little cry that sounded very much like “Eeep!” The stylus flipped out of her fingers to land near Han’s feet as she bobbled the datapad with the other hand.

Although Han had been absorbed and amused by whatever he was reading, in an instant, all of his attention was locked on her, his look concerned. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Struggling to recover, she rolled onto a hip and scrunched over to retrieve the stylus. Daring to sneak a peek as she straightened back up, she saw his disbelief.

“You just jumped like a Womprat on a hot engine cowling.”

She had no idea what that meant. “You startled me.”

“I _startled_ you?”

“I was concentrating.”

Leia frowned. What the hell had she been thinking, looking at those pictures? She knew better! Some things were better left in the past, left long buried where they belonged. As if she’d needed one more thing to torment her.

“Now you’re blushing. Were you reading one of those trashy novels again?”

“What? I don’t read trashy novels!”

“Yes you do. I found one archived on that datapad after our mission to Crytor.”

Opening and then closing her mouth, Leia settled for an incensed glare. “That wasn’t trashy. It was…informative.”

Han rolled his eyes. “That explains a few things. And it _was_ trashy because I read it after you.”

Now she just blinked at him, unsure of whether to cackle, ask after his favorite parts, or demand an explanation of his “few things” comment.

“What do you need romance for, now that you’ve got me?” he prodded.

Giving it up as a lost cause, Leia burst out laughing. Here she was, sealed up for a month in a stuffy, old, malfunctioning merchant star freighter with a sometimes-tetchy smuggler and his meddlesome Wookiee sidekick, reduced to survival rations and his cast-off clothing. She couldn’t think of anything less romantic…and yet here she was, thoroughly enjoying his company. Reaching out, she patted his hand where it rested on her knee. “You’re all I need, Flyboy.”

As his hand began to glide up the slope of her thigh, he waggled an eyebrow at her. “Good to hear. So read something to me. Maybe we’ll find it…informative together.”

Leia’s expression froze as her mind scrambled. It was just her luck that she didn’t have anything erotic loaded at the moment, and of course he wouldn’t let the topic drop. Maybe she could make up something on the fly?

“Come on, let me see….”

He made a grab for the reader, but she jerked it out of his reach, her flush resurging. “No, really, it’s just research. What were you going to tell me?”

Han’s gaze turned shrewd once more. Why did she keep thinking she could fool this man?

“You’re hiding something. If _that_ wasn’t it, then….” As if a circuit breaker had been tripped, Han’s hazel eyes softened in sudden understanding as his gaze flicked down toward the datapad, then back up at her. The old Han would have been irked but now he just sighed and held out his closest arm in invitation. “Ahhh, I think I know what this is about. Come here.”

Sparing a moment to debate whether moving into his embrace meant owning up to the fact she’d been caught, she decided there was little percentage in avoiding the facts. She abandoned the datapad—well out of his reach—and pivoted around to recline alongside him. Grateful as he pulled her in closer, she drew up her knees and curled against him.

His hand smoothed over her hair as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “I told you, it was a long time ago. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Head resting on his shoulder, she stayed quiet for a long moment, contemplating the texture of his chest beneath her fingertips. “I don’t know why I let it get to me. I’m not jealous….”

“Leia…I can’t change the past, but I won’t apologize for it, either. All I can say is that I didn’t know you yet.”

He couldn’t have said it any better and Leia closed her eyes, tipping her face deeper into his neck, breathing in that unique odor that was Han, with maybe just a hint of engine lubricant.

_Sometimes he really does have his moments._

“You had a life before we met and I don’t expect you to apologize or make excuses for that. I know better,” she said, feeling like she was fumbling for words, a problem that rarely plagued her. “It was none of my business.”

“Nah, it was natural. Hell, I would’ve wondered what was wrong if you weren’t a little curious. You probably had a favorite suitor or two back in the day—some mealymouthed inbred prince with mommy issues and—”

Leia delivered a stiff finger under his ribs until she was satisfied with his yelp. Attempting to protect his flank, Han pinned her arms to her sides by tugging her closer. Revenge dispensed, she relaxed against him once more, admitting to herself that he was right—it was probably just human nature that had made her look.

“There was really only one guy while I was at the university, but we couldn’t agree on a major issue, and besides, father didn’t like him very much….”

“What was the issue?”

“He believed we should have continued with passive resistance to the Empire, while I thought that time had passed. It got heated….” She sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if he wasn’t right all the long. Maybe things would be different today.”

Han tightened his hug as he shrugged. “Probably not. The Empire would have found another excuse to test that _Death Star_ and make their point. Maybe not on Alderaan, but somewhere, someplace just as significant. It was just a matter of time.”

“But if we hadn’t escalated—”

“You can’t live like that, Leia. Second-guessing yourself. Hell, if the Alliance hadn’t been ready to take on the _Death Star_ when it did, it’s likely a lot more planets would’ve been destroyed. Did you think of that?”

She hadn’t, and the point he’d made struck deep. Here was one of those things about Han that Leia appreciated most—this ability of his to make her think, to see the things she’d missed.

“So your Dad didn’t like this guy. He probably wouldn’t’ve liked me, either.”

Surprised by the shift in topic, she drew away just far enough so she could meet Han’s eyes, wondering at his sincerity. There had been times when she’d speculated the same thing: What would have been Bail Organa’s reaction to his adopted daughter’s consorting with a smuggler? She supposed he would have disapproved for the obvious reasons, but maybe he would have come around after seeing some of Han’s qualities that had won her over. It was all moot now in any case. Instead, acting on a playful impulse, she gave Han a deliberate once-over while biting her lower lip. “Hard to say, but Rieekan really likes you for some reason, so that would’ve been a solid point in your favor.”

Han grunted, sounding unconvinced. “Well, that’s something.”

“Although he probably still would have ordered you thrown in the stockade for a week for deflowering his only daughter and heir….”

That comment got the desired effect—Han smirked like the inveterate scoundrel he was. Abandoning any pretense of work, he laid his datapad off to the side and reached over to toy with the opening of her borrowed shirt. “It would have been worth it. Anyway, I bet he had his hands full keeping you out of trouble.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was the model of obedience and virtue.”

“Riiiiight,” he chuckled.

“I _might_ have snuck out a couple of times, but honestly, I never got into any real trouble. I was already too busy with bigger things.”

Not arguing with that, as if all too familiar with her formidable dedication, Han shifted his arm around her shoulders so his fingers could dip and clear away her hair, exposing a swath of skin underneath where he placed a lingering kiss. “So there _was_ one hopeful beau, and then there’s Luke…” he prompted, bringing their conversation back around.

Maybe he’d meant to sound more casual, as though mentioning his best friend and potential rival were an afterthought, but it was obvious to her that he was testing the waters and probably wondering how much things would change once she returned to the fleet and he left. Giving Han another assessing look, she realized too late that he was well-versed in suspicion, and with good reason; more than once, she’d purposefully caused that doubt, like when she’d kissed Luke in the med center on Hoth. Sometimes it had been for fun, but more often than not, it was out of spite or revenge, and she felt a flash of remorse for teasing Han like that—for toying with both men’s emotions. “Luke is a close friend.”

“Yes. He is….”

Annoyed all of a sudden by the hint of jealousy in his response, she stiffened and let out a deep breath. Of course her fear and worry over the welfare of Luke still haunted her every day, but to think that Han continued harboring any suspicion or resentment over that, despite everything the two of them had been through and shared since fleeing Hoth, left her at a loss. Could he really doubt her feelings? How much more proof did he need? “But it’s _different_ with Luke. Are you telling me I can’t have male friends anymore?”

Looking a bit surprised and frustrated by her leap in logic, Han shook his head. “No, of course not. Look, my point is that I can’t just make the past go away—Sith knows, I’ve tried! But it’s part of the package and you’re just going to have to trust me. I’m here with _you_ , and I don’t want to be anywhere else. That’s what counts.”

Although tempted to ask just how much longer that might be, Leia had enough sense to stop before their conversation disintegrated into a real argument. “You’re not always a Nerfherder, but you’ll always be _my_ Nerfherder.”

Leia absolutely deserved the sudden onslaught of tickling fingers that followed. She gave a little shriek and tried to escape his reach, but Han was faster and showed no mercy. There was a short frenzy of laughter and tangled limbs, and she was breathless long before he managed to pin her down, his hands trapping her wrists above her head, his magnificent body pressing her down into the mattress in a most wonderful way. The flimsy fabric of his shorts did little to hide his enthusiasm over winning their tussle, and she moved the only way left to her, tilting her hips up to tease him as her own passion flared—he might have gained the upper hand, but she wasn’t without options.

_Funny how these tussles always end up this way._

Han groaned as he took advantage of her incapacitation to grind his hips into hers. Reserving one hand to keep her arms immobile, his other hand began working her shirt up and out of the way while his mouth seemed everywhere at once, wet and hot and relentless. “I’m going to ravish you like they do in those novels of yours, Princess. I’m going to do things to you that would earn me another week in the stockade. I’m going to make you—”

Knowing these were no idle threats, Leia gasped at the spike of excitement that coursed through her, and with the last of her wits, she threw an urgent glance at the unlocked hatchway to the bunk room. “Han, we should—”

“This’ll be fast, Your Highnessness.”

Too late, her body arched up as his mouth worked a nipple to peak hardness, and without thinking, she threw a leg around his lean hips. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Admit it, you like that we might get caught….” His words were muffled as his lips moved down the valley between her breasts, then continued down her belly as she whimpered. Clearly sensing she was past the point of stopping him, he released her crossed wrists and shifted lower to begin easing off her shorts with a deliberate slowness that made her squirm. He couldn’t have been more right as she gripped the edge of the bunk with one hand while the other combed through his soft hair, gently guiding his travels—the last thing she wanted to do was intervene.

“You like the danger,” he murmured.

_Goddess help me, but I do. I really do_.


	22. Chapter 22

Leia watched as her home planet rose up in the view screen, more vivid and beautiful than ever—the breathtaking sapphire blues, the emerald greens, the golden deserts and ice-white swirls of glacial ranges, all wrapped in gossamer clouds, but her heart felt like it was clamped in a vice.

_No._

Lurching toward the image, desperate, she wanted to go back there now. She’d known this game was deadly serious, known the stakes were high, known the risks. Gambling with her life had seemed a fair price, but not this. Never this. She didn’t want to play this game anymore. She no longer felt brave or noble or mature. She felt very small.

_Papa_.

Wanting nothing more than to go home, she’d tried to outmaneuver her tormentors. Tried to lie. Tried everything. Now she just wanted it all to stop.

_No_.

Large hands gripped her shoulders—strong, irresistible.

_No_.

The hands were pulling her back, holding her in place, but they weren’t the cold, inhuman hands she’d come to fear so much; they weren’t the black leather-encased gloves of a living demon, but rather flesh and familiar. Although the chest she butted up against wore inflexible body armor, it was white rather than black, and gone was the overwhelming presence of threat. Missing was the steady, terrible, never-ending death rattle of a mechanical respirator.

Confused by the change, as if suddenly losing her place in a script she knew by heart, she twisted around to face her captor, but it wasn’t the black nightmarish mask she expected, or the skull-like features of Imperial Governor Tarkin, who had brought them within agonizing sight of her planet. It was Han, as he would look when he emerged out of a smoke- and laser-filled corridor wearing stormtrooper armor, part of the rescue team come to save her…but he was early.

_Han?_

_I’m right here, Sweetheart. You’re safe._

A surge of relief ran through her to see him here now, so striking and brave, and her heart soared. Of course he would help.

_Please, Han…. You can make them stop! Oh Han, look!_

Turning back, she wanted to show him her home, how beautiful it was, a gem suspended on a backdrop of richest black shimmersilk. She wanted to share it with him, but it was gone, all of it: the empty Observation Deck of the _Death Star_ , the view screen, her home.

_No._

Instead, she was looking out at a sky bathed in reds and blues, a mighty sunset with bright silvery disks of twin moons slowly rising through the fantastic palette of colors. Han was still behind her, his arms folded securely around her middle, and they now stood on a wide stone balcony. The cool autumn night air carried the rich earthy scent from a grove of trees that lined the grounds spread out before them; it blended with his warmth and musk, filling her senses, soothing her.

_Where are we?_

But she knew before he answered. Having visited several times both as daughter of the Viceroy of Alderaan and as a senator, she recognized the moons and distinctive constellations of the sister planets of Corellia.

_Home_.

Turning in his arms, needing to see his face, Leia found the younger Han was gone, replaced by an older version, somehow older than she knew him, but still just as handsome.

_Is this our home?_

The words sounded strange to her, even as she said them—the idea that this was theirs together and that she could have another.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he kissed her forehead.

_I have to go away for a while._

_No! Don’t leave me._

_You’ll be okay, Leia. You’re the strongest person I know._

She shook her head. How could that be possible when it was his presence that made this peaceful scene so complete?

_I’m not strong. I just don’t know what else to do._

_You will._

_When will you return?_

Again he left her question hanging, offering only a wistful smile. Why wouldn’t he answer her? As his arms loosened and he stepped away, the scarlet hues of sunset bathed his features, seeming to bleed down from the sky to engulf him. The night air made her shiver as his warmth faded with him.

_Han_.

The acute ache from his disappearance was so powerful that Leia awoke with his name still on her lips. Heart racing, she opened her eyes and found herself facing the familiar red-tinted, dimly lit, featureless inner wall of their bunk. Lying on her stomach, one arm clutching an extra pillow at her side, she could feel Han beneath the covers to her other side, his outstretched arm across her lower back and a long leg intertwined with hers. The sensation was calming, as if he’d anchored her to the mattress to keep her from straying too far, even in her dreams. As if she would ever want to.

The cabin was dark and still, the only sounds the dull thrum of the sublight engines and Han’s regular breathing; both sounds were reassuring and had become a welcome soundtrack to her life, a comforting background unnoticed now unless she made a conscious effort. But the idea of the silence returning increased her lingering fears of what would happen in a few days once the hyperdrive was repaired. Trying to dispel the disturbing feeling, she carefully moved around on the bunk, slipping her legs free from his and overlapping his arm across her belly with her own as she rolled onto her back.

_If I’m so strong, then why am I so scared?_

As her hand covered his, she allowed her fingertips to trace the roadmap of veins and tendons there, picturing them in her mind with ease—truth be told, she’d memorized his hands a long time ago. During the times when she’d feared looking into his eyes, feared losing herself in them, it had been easier to study those instead, watching while he worked and relaxed, all the time wondering how they might feel on her, how they would touch her. Now that she knew those answers, the thought of losing what she’d so recently discovered left her alternately bordering on tears and with a fierce determination to prevent what seemed inevitable.

The old Jedi Order had believed in fate, in submitting to a destiny that appeared unavoidable, and years ago in her private studies, Leia had concluded that this rationale was one of their greatest weaknesses if not the main contributor to their downfall. When she’d joined her father and taken up arms to fight what so many others considered a lost cause, she’d never doubted that she could make a difference. That same spirit had buoyed her through times when naysayers argued it couldn’t be done, when things had seemed written in durasteel; those negative words just made her fight all the harder.

_I’m no Jedi and this is not over yet. I’m not about to let him go without a fight._

Her fingertips slid to the underside of his wrist, gliding along until they found and rested upon the strong pulse point in the recess of tendons there, and she imagined her own heart beating in sync with it. Even lost in deep sleep, Han exuded life and strength, often serving as a beacon in her darkest hours, in his own unique way lighting a path whether she had wanted illumination or not. Through everything that had happened since Alderaan, through all their bickering and denials and now their renaissance, he had restored and revived her.

_If I get any more maudlin, I could just quit this job and become a trashy holoromance writer. The hours would be better and the research infinitely more enjoyable._

Rolling her eyes, she let out a sigh as the absurd thought chased away some of the bad vibes still lingering from the disorienting dream. The images were already fading away like most dreams did, but there had been parts of it she liked very much, and she tried to recall those now. Maybe if she relaxed enough, she could go back to that place….

Turning toward Han and switching positions to slide an arm over his broad back and a leg over his longer one, she allowed herself to feel possessive, protective. He stirred, his face burrowing into the pillow as he gave a muffled grunt, but slumbered on. Closing her eyes, she let the hum of the ship around them lull her back to sleep.


	23. Chapter 23

It was morning of the twenty-sixth day into their sublight trip. Seated alone in the cockpit, curiosity had caused Han to run a search of the ship’s logs for any history of visits to Bespin. Although he’d never been there, it was no surprise when the old logs failed to call up a single entry prior to his ownership; the mining colony was too remote, the _Falcon_ wasn’t rigged for hauling gases at any rate, and the planet held little attraction other than Tibanna gas and a recent but burgeoning tourist interest.

_Could be worse. We could be stranded in the Central Core and headed for someplace where everybody knows at least one of us on sight. Consider yourself lucky._

Switching off the comp screen, he sank back into his seat and let his eyes drift up to study the large planet only now starting to appear as an angry red dot distinct from the rest of the starry field in the forward canopy. They would arrive tomorrow, their long odyssey at an end, but the fact brought him no joy. He had a multitude of reasons for wishing they could just keep flying: trepidation over seeing Lando Calrissian and begging a favor, dread of the inevitable confrontation he would soon have with Jabba the Hutt and begging yet another favor, dismay that his idyllic time with Leia was about to end, and—worst of all—the gut fear that theirs would be a final goodbye.

_You could keep on flying. Stop just long enough to stock up and fix that blasted motivator unit, then steal the princess away from the rest of this ungrateful universe. Disappear beyond the fringe of the Outer Rim, where they wouldn’t know and wouldn’t care who we are. We could both start over again._

The fantasy brought a wistful smile to his face, and if he’d thought for a moment that she’d go for the idea—if she’d be willing to run away from a fight for which she’d already sacrificed so much….

_I’d do it in a heartbeat, Princess. In a heartbeat._

Something had happened to him on this trip, something substantial. The idealistic youth crushed by a meddling and controlling family, the court-martial and discharge from the Academy, and the brutal realities of the resulting unsheltered life—the dreamer he’d recognized in Luke—had been resurrected. For the first time since his abrupt introduction to adulthood, he’d found a reason to look toward the future, beyond just the next run or the next score. Instead he caught himself contemplating all sorts of crazy ideas, like finding a home to share with Leia, starting a family, and enjoying a long life together. They were insane thoughts, not at all compatible with the reality of their situations, and yet he didn’t have the heart to squash them. They were vague but tantalizing dreams in his mind, so fragile that they needed protection from his own cynicism.

As if summoned by his desires—her timing always seemed in tune with his, the cockpit hatch whisked open and Leia stepped in. Dressed in the usual assortment of his clothing, her hair was up in her “style of the day,” this one a high wispy pile far more complicated than it appeared at first glance. As she moved closer to bend down and kiss him, those plush lips lingered just long enough to stir his interest before she handed him a warm mug.

“Last of the tea, Flyboy.”

The kaffe had run out a week ago, as had the reconstituted blue milk and a variety of other luxuries he’d normally taken for granted. The fact they were now running out of the basics was the only good reason the trip was about to end.

“Thanks, Sweetheart.”

The princess moved around to stand behind his seat, and Han felt her warm hands begin to rub his shoulders and neck, thumbs working into his muscles like he’d taught her, finding the knots and kneading away the tension that seemed to plague him since Ord Mantell. Taking a sip of the tea then allowing his head to fall back as her fingers worked their magic, he noticed that her eyes weren’t on him but rather were staring out toward the planet in their path, the symbol of the end of their voyage. He didn’t need to ask how she felt about their imminent arrival—her look said it all.

The mood between them had begun to shift again over the last few days as the euphoria of their love affair had taken on a more serious tone, mellowing and deepening like the swelling harmony of a symphony as they approached the coda of their journey together. While the pleasure was heady and remarkable, there was a new sense of desperation seeping in, as if they were preparing on a subconscious level for the worst. Sometimes he was surprised to find them not speaking at all but communicating just through touch and a shared closeness, as though words no longer seemed adequate. Never having felt this sort of connection with anyone before, he didn’t understand it, doubted he could describe it if he tried, and yet the very thought that he might lose it now made him almost frantic.

Her fingers slid up his neck and into his hair, massaging his scalp, and she finally spoke again. “Chewie says he’s going back to his cabin to read the latest Flash Banigan novel on the datapad and he has no intention of coming out until lunchtime.”

“There’s a new one already?” Chuckling, Han closed his eyes. “He loves that series. It’s embarrassing…. But that means we’ve got the ship to ourselves….”

“Hmmmm.”

She offered no resistance as he caught one of her hands. While holding his mug off to the other side to avoid spilling, he drew her around beside him and then eased her over the arm of his chair so that she slipped into his lap crossways. Wiggling until she was comfortable, Leia leaned against his chest and sighed. He brought his mug back up to take another drink, and then surrendered it when she indicated she wanted to share.

Both hands freed, Han slipped one beneath her borrowed shirt to smooth over the skin he’d already memorized, and then caressed a breast. As anticipated, her body’s response was instant, her moan warm on his neck, making his own skin tingle.

“Han….” She said his name in a way that made him pause; it wasn’t the breathy excitement he’d come to expect whenever he touched her this way, but rather the sort of serious pitch that warned a discussion was looming and she wouldn’t be easily distracted. Instead of coming right out with it, though, she buried her face into the crook of his neck.

Realizing he needed to change his approach, Han eased his hand back down her side, offering comfort. “You okay?”

“No.”

Han tipped his head to let his cheek rest against her forehead.

_Well, at least she doesn’t hold back anymore. Now you know what you’re dealing with, even if you still don’t have any solutions._

“It’s tomorrow, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yeah…. It’ll be mid-morning ship time, early morning in Cloud City when we make planetfall.”

Nearly empty mug still cradled in her graceful hands, Leia drew a deep breath. “I’m afraid for you…. I’m afraid for us.”

Han stayed silent for a long moment, restraining the urge to blurt out his first cynical thought: _I told you so_. They’d both walked into this situation all too aware of reality; they knew this trip would end soon enough and they would again face an uncertain future, this time with so much more to lose than before. At one time, Han would have scoffed and questioned his sanity, but the man he was today didn’t regret an instant because she was worth all the trouble of the past, worth all the potential problems to come.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

Leia’s head rocked on his shoulder. “Something’s wrong….”

Was she trying to jinx them? “Come on, Leia….”

“I don’t know what it is. It just doesn’t feel right,” she finished, her voice hushed as it glided like the finest shimmersilk against his flesh.

“We don’t have a choice,” he reminded her in a weak attempt to lift her spirits. Lando might not have much incentive to do him any favors, but neither could he have enough hatred to do them actual harm; Han had to believe that. “It’ll be fast, just long enough to fix the hyperdrive and restock. There won’t be enough time to get into trouble.”

The little sound that came from the vicinity of his neck sounded a lot like a derisive laugh, and he didn’t need to read her mind to get her gist.

_Trouble tends to find us._

“Right…. I just wish…” she began.

“We could keep flying?” Han grinned, knowing he’d caught her indulging in a fantasy.

“Yes.”

As his fingers stroked over the smooth skin of her back, he still marveled at the ability to touch her like this, his princess, without restraint whenever the mood struck. “Looks like maybe some irresponsibility’s rubbed off on you.”

“It’s from hanging out with the wrong crowd.”

“That’s a real shame. I happen to like nice women.”

“That isn’t what I heard….”

“Rumors, Your Worship. Don’t believe any of them. They were all good women before I got to them.”

She gave an amused sniff as she finished off their tea and then passed the mug back. As he set it out of the way, her freed hand found a new purpose in fiddling with the front of his white work shirt, the contact of her fingers along his exposed skin just as electric now as the first time. Maybe that was the upside of having waited so damned long to touch one another? But it made what he had to say next all the more difficult.

“I imagine High Command’s pretty worried about what happened. Gotta return you before they put a price on my head, too.”

Her body stiffened in his arms and he hated the fact that he even had to bring it up, as if he’d just willed the official end to their long holiday. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll send an encrypted communiqué tomorrow to let them know I’m all right, and then we’ll take care of your business without—”

“No, I should get you back. They’ll need their—”

“Stop it!” she snapped. The genuine anger she emitted was familiar, yet felt foreign after experiencing so little of it over the past few weeks. “Right now, you need me and I’m going to help any way I can.”

“The best way you can help me is to stay clear of this. You’d be one less thing I have to worry about when I go in.”

That was plainly the wrong tactic because she pushed away from his chest, dark eyes flashing, betraying what was going on behind that cool exterior. “I see. You don’t want me there because I might get in the way, even though you have no backup and little expectation of success. You’d rather I go back to the Alliance where I can do nothing but worry, but at least I won’t cramp your style. Am I right so far?”

This was an argument he knew neither of them could win, not like this, mixing emotions and logic when the two were incompatible. He couldn’t blame her, though—the last thing he felt like being was rational. She didn’t need to voice the rest of her thoughts because he could practically hear them: _When you go in there, do you have a plan for getting out?_

When he didn’t respond, Leia looked away in irritation. In fact, she looked ready to climb out of his lap and leave the cockpit, but she didn’t. Perhaps that was a greater testament to her commitment than anything. “I’m supposed to be there when you face Jabba. I can feel it.”

It was bad enough having to listen to that sort of mumbo jumbo from Luke—the last thing he needed was to start hearing it from her, too. “Don’t go turning into the Kid on me….”

“I’m serious. I have dreams….”

“Sweetheart, that’s all they are—dreams. They don’t mean anything. Besides, I’ve watched you have too many bad ones already and I’m not about to add any more.”

Leia looked shocked at his revelation, anger momentarily forgotten. While he hadn’t intended to tell her about the fact she’d awoken him numerous times, knowing it would embarrass her, the truth was out now. Reaching up to touch her cheek, his thumb nudged her chin up a little. “Forget about it. Just tell me you have good dreams once in a while, too, huh?”

Despite her embarrassment at what she clearly perceived as a personal weakness, and despite their inability to agree on the matter at hand, she gave him a little smile. “Sometimes.”

“Any of them include me?” he prompted with his best dashing grin.

She looked torn between telling him what he wanted to hear and her ingrained resolve to win. “Sometimes.”

“Good. Keep those in mind and I’ll be back before you know it,” he said with a finality that meant the decision was already made.

“Han, this is not settled.”

“Yes, it is. Chewie feels the same way, so it’s unanimous.”

“That is _not_ unanimous!”

“You’re still outvoted, Your Highnessness.”

“But…I don’t like it!”

“I don’t expect you to like it. In fact, I’d be awfully disappointed if you did.”

Still refusing to accept his pronouncement, Leia shook her head. “What right do you have to tell me what I can and can’t do? Just because I’ve slept with you does _not_ —”

“My ship. My rules. And for the record, sleeping with me has nothing to do with it—although now that you mention it, that’s another good reason to keep you from getting hurt.”

“That goes both ways, you know. You’re not the only one with a vested interest here.”

“I know that, but you’re still not coming along and that’s final. And it’s not just me. Chewie will pick you up and carry you off the ship if he has to. Don’t think he won’t.”

She scrutinized him for a moment, as if debating his authenticity, and he had to dig deep to maintain his stern expression. Part of him was thrilled this amazing woman cared so much that she kept fighting, even when it drove him crazy, but he couldn’t afford to cave now—she’d spot that weakness in an instant and exploit it like the consummate infighter she was.

Instead, Han settled for his most effective tactic: distraction. “Did any of your dreams involve me doing this?” He flashed his most devastating smile as his hand found its way back under her shirt with renewed purpose.

Leia’s eyebrows shot up as she registered the dirty tactic, but either she wasn’t prepared for it or she didn’t mind so much; he got the reaction he was hoping for as she arched up into his caress. Then she glared at him, visibly peeved by the fact that her eager body had just betrayed her. “That’s not fair. You are the most infuriating, obstinate—”

“Exciting. Don’t forget exciting,” he rumbled, bowing to capture her closest earlobe between his teeth before sucking on it. The shiver that ran through her was all the incentive he needed and he groaned upon feeling his own swelling interest. He still didn’t understand how she had gained such a powerful effect over him, but he was long past questioning it as her hand moved behind his neck, keeping him exactly where she wanted him.

“—exciting man I’ve ever met.”

“I know….”

The kiss she gave him next was languid, lush, and lingering—it was the sort of kiss that could make a man forget his own name, although in his case, he was more than eager to let that go. If this was a new tactic, a sensual attempt to outmaneuver him, then he was all for it. “Did you lock the hatch?”

“Of course.”

He grinned against her lips, loving her bold initiative. “Of course…. That’s what I like about you. You’re always thinking ahead.”

“Somebody has to….”


	24. Chapter 24

An  intrusive, annoying, and unfamiliar buzz woke Leia with a start. The subsonic rattling thrum of the _Falcon_ and the warmth of Han behind her filled her senses as an ephemeral dream of soaring over endless dunes of golden sand on her own wings eluded her conscious mind.

With a grunt, Han shifted beside her as he reached up to the little control panel mounted in the bulkhead to kill the alarm, then continued the motion in a long stretch. Following suit, she added a little squeak of protest while contorting against him. When his hand dropped back down to rest on her hip and she felt him nuzzle into the nape of her neck, breathing in the scent of her hair, she closed her eyes again, more than happy to ignore the time. Then he muttered something in Corellian that she couldn’t translate, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t positive in nature.

They’d stayed up late, way too late, extracting every last selfish moment together before sleep won out, and they would no doubt pay for it today. This was the first time in weeks that she’d needed a wake-up call, and she realized with a groan that it was true in more ways than one: Their long idyll was about to end with the same abruptness as her dream.

Han moved behind her again, and for a second she hoped he might initiate more—anything to postpone the day, but she knew he wouldn’t, not this morning. They’d run out of time.

The man radiated reluctance as he let go of her and swung his long legs out from under the covers to sit up on the edge of the bunk. Rolling toward him, she touched his back, sliding her hand up his spine, wondering how many more times she could do this before he left. Completing the final repairs then making the hyperjump to the fleet rendezvous point, assuming that hadn’t changed by now, would take maybe two or three days at the most, and then he would have to leave. The physical ache in her chest that accompanied this thought shocked her with its strength.

_Oh dear Goddess, I was wrong. Maybe this is worse than never knowing…._

He glanced over his shoulder at her, his expression masked by the darkness of the cabin, but she imagined seeing the same thought reflected in his shadowed features.

“Back to reality, Princess.”

“Reality is overrated.” It was a bold statement that she would have balked at making four weeks ago, no matter how true. Wasn’t she supposed to be more mature now?

“You got that right.” Watching as he raked fingers through his tousled hair, she usually smiled at this habit of his, but now the gesture seemed to generate more melancholy than anything. As if sensing her frame of mind, he reached back and caught her hand to give it a squeeze. “Go back to sleep. It’ll be a few hours yet, but somebody needs to be up front when we hit their long-range sensors. We don’t want any surprises.”

It wasn’t until he shuffled toward the fresher and disappeared behind the door that she relaxed onto her back and debated whether to try for a little more sleep, but she gave up the idea. Thoughts of their recent lovemaking came back to haunt her; the way he’d kept switching from generous to demanding, tender to possessive, as if he couldn’t decide how to deal with her all of a sudden. His turmoil of moods had seemed to resonate within her last night, amplifying her own feelings as she grew attuned with him in a way that left her deeply stirred, and now it all kept looping in her mind like a damaged holodisk.

_He’s scared. He won’t admit it, but I can feel it._

It was a childish impulse, but she didn’t want to move—didn’t want to disturb anything, as if by doing so she could keep things from changing. At the same time, though, she felt the strongest temptation to jump up and join him in the shower in a blatant attempt to delay the inevitable. Both were juvenile responses and she rejected them with annoyance.

_Where’s that single-minded resolve and dedication you’re famous for, Leia?_

_Don’t you mean_ in _famous?_

Staring up at the dark, smooth bulkhead arching above her, she brooded. She’d always feared that giving in to her feelings for Han might jeopardize her commitment to the Rebellion, and in a way, this trip had allowed her a neat excuse to sidestep that conflict, if only for a few weeks. With the journey now ending, the time had come to strap on the armor once more and resume her duties, yet she found the very thought of pulling on that tight white thermal bodysuit from Hoth—sealing it up to her neck, closing her body inside—was enough to make her shudder.

That genuine, spontaneous physical reaction confirmed her suspicion that their situation wasn’t the only thing dramatically changed.

_If others can find a balance between life and work, why can’t I? There’s got to be a way. Who says it has to be all or nothing?_

Defiance against the Empire was an obvious, necessary, and very personal objective, but she was also defiant by nature and couldn’t help feeling contrary now, wanting to resist and abandon this path they seemed trapped upon and blaze her own.

_If there’s one thing we’re both known for, it’s bending the rules, right?_

Cocooning herself in the blanket, she buried her face into Han’s pillow and breathed in.

_There’s got to be a way…._


	25. Chapter 25

By the time Leia put the finishing touches to her hair, a good portion of the morning was gone. Staring at her reflection in the mirror now, she wondered if she looked any different. Did she look changed? Older? Wiser? Would people know in an instant that something profound had happened?

_Stop it. The only thing different is that you’ve finally rejoined the rest of humanity._

In fact, she had even picked the same old flattering but no-nonsense crown of braids that were her mainstay since Yavin IV, although between that and the snowsuit, she knew it was an invitation for an unfavorable comment from Han. The problem was that she needed something to help her reassume that mantle of responsibility she’d so blithely shed weeks ago, and unlike the hairstyles she’d experimented with throughout their long trip, the one today wasn’t for his benefit—it was for hers. This one was practical, familiar, business as usual.

_Is that what you really want? Business as usual?_

Frowning at her appearance, all too aware that her moods lately had swung wider than the Outer Rim, she was filled with a sudden urge to undo it all and damn propriety. A new sound from outside the cabin made Leia stop mid-motion, hand hovering near her ear. It was the rhythmic clanking of metal footsteps on the deck plates of the circular corridor outside, growing closer and then stopping. A moment later, there followed a sharp, brief tapping on the bunk room hatch.

“Mistress Leia?”

Leia squeezed her eyes shut and willed reality to go away, preferably down the nearest black hole. The fact that the _Falcon_ ’s crew had switched See-Threepio back on was perhaps the most inarguable sign that their holiday was over.

The nervous tapping resumed. “Mistress Leia? Are you in there? Captain Solo sent me to find you. Is there anything I may assist you with?”

Sighing, Leia stowed the hairbrush away and walked out into the main cabin. “I’ll be out in a moment, Threepio.”

Pausing in the center of the cabin, she looked at their bunk. _Their_ bunk.

_Maybe if I talk directly with Chewie, I could change his vote…._

Laid out on the medical station bunk, the matching vest and gloves that accompanied her outfit seemed to mock her, but they were all part of the armor, part of what protected her from elements beyond her control. With a grimace, she grabbed them and turned toward the door.

“It’s good to see you again, Your Highness,” the protocol droid chirped as soon as the hatch opened. “Captain Solo has informed me that nearly four weeks have passed since we left the asteroid belt, and that we’re about to arrive at the mining colony on Bespin. I must say that I am very confused as to how we escaped, and neither Captain Solo nor Chewbacca will tell me what has happened. I am hoping that you will enlighten me so that I may share the story with Artoo-Detoo later. Oh, I do hope he’s all right! He does have a knack for finding trouble—I suspect it may be a flaw in his programming—”

Already inundated and wondering if she would even get a word in, Leia waved a hand as she stepped around the droid and marched down the corridor toward the cockpit. “We can thank Captain Solo for his skill and knowledge. The hyperdrive is still down and we’ve been traveling at sublight speed ever since but we should be safe now. Nothing else has happened.”

_That may be the greatest understatement of all time._

But the rest of the story was none of his business and she would be a fool to share anything so personal with such a chatterbox. Not satisfied with her lack of elaboration, Threepio fussed along behind her, but she blocked him out as she finished dressing on the way. There wasn’t much logic to putting on the gloves now—she wasn’t particularly cold—but maybe wearing them would discourage her from touching Han at random and inappropriate times in equally random and inappropriate places, something she was prone to doing now.

Leia entered the cockpit to find it humming with a tense energy she hadn’t felt in several weeks. The _Falcon_ ’s crew was arguing as the massive gas giant of a planet loomed ahead, crowding out everything else in the cockpit view, its surface a roiling swirl of orange and red that seemed alive, like a heatless sun, giving off such an oppressive glow that it made Leia stop in her tracks and stare out at it in dread.

“—don’t give a damn what Teffarik said. He’s the last person I’d trust to relay anything to Jabba.”

«Then how are we to even set foot in Mos Eisley without—?»

The smugglers hushed and Leia knew they’d stopped discussing their plans in deference to her, which only succeeded in annoying her.

_To call that a plan would be too generous._

Frowning, she made a barely controlled landing into the navigator’s seat. “Don’t stop on my account.”

Not taking the bitter bait, Han twisted around to give her an appraisal, his expression a mix of what she’d come to think of as “old and improved” Han; some of the old displeasure and orneriness was mingling with the open affection. She wasn’t sure how to interpret that.

“You know, I like how it hugs the curves, but it’s not easy for me to get into.”

It took Leia a moment, in her emotional funk, to realize he was talking about her clothing and not the latest Landspeeder or whatever. There was a time when she would have treated him to her chilliest stare or a sharp retort, but now her first instinct was a begrudged laugh. “Well, I can’t go walking around in your old workout clothes, now can I?”

“I’m not sure walking around in that will be any better.” He gestured at her thermal suit for emphasis and, in particular, the security clearance insignia above her left breast.

Growing serious again, she gave him a cool look. “If you’re trying to make me feel less nervous about this whole thing, you’re doing a terrible job of it.”

Too late Han seemed to realize his miscalculation, but he was interrupted when the ship’s comm link crackled to life.

“Cloud City Flight Control to approaching Wy-Tee Thirteen-Hundred freighter. You are about to enter unauthorized airspace. Please transmit identification and landing permit immediately.”

The link went quiet and Han gave his partner what Leia thought to be a very anxious look. “Okay, Chewie, send that fake ID we set up.”

«What about a landing permit?» the Wookiee queried, even as he followed his captain’s orders.

“We obviously don’t have one, so just fly normal.”

«What’s ‘normal’?»

Leia couldn’t help rolling her eyes. The Wookiee had a point.

They were entering the outermost atmosphere of the planet now, and huge columns of dense, billowing clouds, tinted red and orange by the system’s distant sun, rose up around them to form a canyon.

A proximity alarm went off, making them all jump as it announced other ships approaching, while the comm station speaker boomed out again, this time with more menace. “Cloud City Flight Control to _Gambler’s Fate_. You are not authorized to approach for docking without a landing permit.”

Han leaned toward Chewie and hit the toggle switch on the comm mike. “ _Gambler’s Fate_ to Cloud City Flight Control. This is an emergency. Let me speak with Lando Calrissian. He knows who I am. He’ll okay the docking.”

A pair of orange twin-pod cloud cars appeared out of the brilliant cloud cover ahead, swooping in to bracket the _Falcon_ on either side. One of them drew up alongside close enough that Leia could make out the pilot in the cockpit and navigator in the matching nacelle. She stood and gripped the back of Han’s chair, too nervous to sit still any longer.

“Warning, _Gambler’s Fate_ , you are entering unauthorized airspace. Do you have a landing permit?”

As if to prove they were finished playing games, one of the cloud cars dropped back out of sight, and a second later, a blast of laser fire crossed just ahead of the _Falcon_ ’s bow, causing Han to react in an instant by changing their flight path, even as he continued toward the city. Meanwhile, he tried to reason with the docking official, his voice an exercise in measured patience. “No, I _don’t_ have a landing permit. I’m trying to reach Lando Calrissian….”

There was another burst of flak, and this time the _Falcon_ was buffeted as laserfire deflected off the rear shields.

Showing alarm for the first time, Han hit the transmitter switch again. “Whoa! Wait a minute! Let me explain—”

“You will not deviate from your present course.”

“Rather touchy, aren’t they?” Threepio pointed out, causing Leia to jump once again. Having grown used to the droid occupying the communications station in darkened silence, she’d forgotten he was reactivated.

All senses on full alert, every instinct now screamed at her to run the other way, but what choice did they have? They would starve long before reaching the next inhabited planet, assuming they weren’t picked off by scavengers or suffered some other catastrophic breakdown. Even so, their reception so far was anything but hospitable. Leaning forward, she shot Han an accusatory glare. “I thought you knew this person.”

«That’s probably why they took a shot at us,» Chewbacca volunteered. «He may still hold a grudge about the _Falcon_. Or maybe about the time Solo upstaged Lando’s attempt to seduce half of Serrel Konash’s wedding party.»

Leia cast a renewed look of heated annoyance at Han.

_I_ still _don’t know a blasted thing about this man!_

Han squirmed in his seat as if somebody had dumped a hive of stinging creepers down his pants. “Well, that was a long time ago. I’m sure he’s forgotten about that.”

He was rescued from further discomfort by the authoritative voice coming through the comm link once more. “Permission granted to land on platform three-two-seven.”

“Thank you,” was Han’s sarcastic response as he switched off the intercom. Only then did he seem to notice Leia’s glare, which he shrugged away with a vindicated grin. “There’s nothing to worry about. We go way back, Lando and me.”

Feeling anything but convinced, she returned to her seat. “Who’s worried?”

The _Falcon_ broke through a rouged layer of clouds to emerge into the open stratosphere, where in the distance hovered a massive platform that Leia recognized from her datapad research as Cloud City. A tense silence prevailed in the cockpit as their cloud car escorts corralled their approach and arrival, making sure the starship didn’t stray from its approved course. Early morning air traffic was light as Han wove the freighter among the tallest spires and buildings.

Any other time, Leia might have been fascinated by the unique architecture of the outpost city, but her mind was too occupied with possible scenarios, most of them bad. They appeared to be heading for a vacant single-ship docking platform ahead, the sort of landing stage reserved for VIPs, and she couldn’t decide if she liked that or not; while it would offer them a degree of privacy (something she was keen to maintain), it would also restrict their ability to blend in. Glancing again at Han, she saw that his cool facade was back, foiling her attempts to quickly read his body language.

_I can feel it, though. He’s thinking the same thing. He’s not used to this sort of reception._

Within a few short minutes, as the _Falcon_ came to rest on the circular platform and her crew began shutting down the main systems, Leia noticed they were keeping the defensive systems online and she felt a modicum of relief—at least it demonstrated they were remaining cautious.

Han climbed out of his seat, straightened up to his full height, and adjusted the holster rig he hadn’t donned in weeks. He spared a long moment to look at her before offering his hand. His poignant smile made her heart pound. “Come on, Princess. Time to get some fresh air.”

She nodded, accepting his chivalrous gesture. She was struck by the now-odd sensation of touching him but not feeling his skin. He must have noticed as well because he glanced down at her gloved hand in dissatisfaction.

«Should I bring my bowcaster?» Chewie interrupted their shared moment of silent disorientation.

“Nah, Chewie. That’s probably not the kind of mood we want to set…but make sure you redirect the quad guns to the external auxiliary controls on the boarding ramp—just in case.”

«Right.»

Feeling more apprehensive with every moment, Leia began to shake her head but Han preempted any comment by pulling her out of the cockpit and into the passageway. “We’ll get the ship fixed up and restocked, I’ll buy you some new outfits, and we’ll hit a good restaurant before heading back out. This’ll be real quick.”

“I wish I had your confidence.”

He plowed on as if enthusiasm alone could overcome any potential problems. “Hell, I can’t decide which sounds better right now, seeing you in something different or digging into a five-course meal.”

“I don’t know, Han…. I think we should stay as close to the _Falcon_ as possible.”

“It’s cabin fever. You’ve been on this ship too long. As soon as you’re out and walking around a bit, you’ll feel better. Trust me.” Stopping near the loading ramp to wait for Chewbacca and Threepio, he reached up to caress her cheek. It was the first time he’d touched her since the alarm in the early morning and she couldn’t help closing her eyes, needing the contact.

_If I’m already missing him this badly after only a few hours, how am I going to cope when he leaves for good?_

“This is so exciting,” Threepio prattled on as he minced down the cockpit corridor toward them. “I have never had an occasion to visit Cloud City before but I have heard of it. They say the views rival any to be found on the most popular luxury cruise lines of the Core systems.”

Meeting her dismayed look, Han rolled his eyes before hitting the controls to lower the boarding ramp. “He’s your droid.”

“That’s a matter still up for debate.”

Despite her insulated suit, the rush of cold fresh air that gusted past them made Leia shiver as the boarding ramp was lowered for the first time in four weeks. While it carried a taste of something unidentifiable and slightly metallic, it was a pleasant change after breathing the recycled, lubricant-tinged atmosphere of the _Falcon_ for so long. Pure reflex made Leia close her eyes again as she drew in a deeper breath.

_Maybe he’s right. Maybe you’ve just been cooped up too long obsessing about today._

Already halfway down the incline of the ramp while it was still lowering, Han peered around in caution as it came to rest on the docking bay platform.

«Where’s the port authority?» Chewbacca asked as they followed in Han’s wake and moved out onto the empty platform.

“Oh, no one to meet us,” Threepio fussed. Whereas the Wookiee’s comment had been loaded with suspicion, the protocol droid just sounded disappointed by the breach in decorum.

All of them stared at the sealed docking bay doors at the far end of the narrow walkway, where there’d yet to appear any sign of welcome or even acknowledgment of their presence.

The hair rising along Leia’s arms had nothing to do with the bracing air. “I don’t like this.”

Han turned and stepped back to face her, some of his exasperation with her ominous remarks beginning to slip through for the first time. “Well, what _would_ you like?”

_What I would like involves going back to our bunk._

That was just the sort of wildly inappropriate thought she was afraid of. Not about to voice it now, instead she tipped her head to meet his bothered gaze with a mute one of her own.

“Well, they did let us land,” Threepio interjected on a positive note.

“Look, don’t worry,” Han reasoned. “Everything’s going to be fine. Trust me.” He was doubtless growing tired of saying that, which seemed fitting as she was tired of hearing it.

There was a loud hiss from the docking platform blast doors, drawing their attention.

«Somebody’s coming,» Chewie announced as the doors slid open to reveal an interior of dazzling white walls and a squad of blue-uniformed men inside.

As if she’d needed another jolt of adrenaline, Leia froze in alarm upon seeing the armed cadre that began marching toward them.

_Oh dear Goddess, they’re coming to arrest us._

She shot a look at Han, preparing to bolt back up the ramp for a hasty departure upon his signal, but he appeared to recognize one of the men approaching and gave her his most confident smile as he gestured toward the party.

“See? My friend.”

Far from relaxing, Leia gave him a little nod but reserved any further comment, instead watching as Han moved away to pause beside his partner and tap the Wookiee on the chest. “Keep your eyes open, huh?”

As Han walked out to greet the group, she noticed a dark-skinned man in the lead, dressed in indigo and black and wearing the type of cape she was pretty sure had passed out of fashion in the Core Systems quite some time ago. Even from this distance, Leia could read tension in his body language; his gait was stiff and angry as he crossed the bridge that linked the circular building to their landing platform. He looked like a man preparing for a showdown.

Another detail that caught her eye was the rare cybernetic device wrapped around the head of the man next in line, the only other one not dressed in the sky-blue uniforms of the security detail. The rational part of her guessed he was probably the city administrator’s assistant, but the fact he was capable of silent communication only contributed to her unease. The subordinate called the guards to a halt, but the swarthy, handsome man in the lead continued advancing, and now she could see the forbidding set of his dark expression, all of it aimed at Han. A chill ran through her as the wind buffeted them, ruffling Solo’s thick hair and making the stranger’s cape fly out like a raptor’s wings before a strike.

“Hey!” Han called out as he strode from under the relative protection of the _Falcon_ ’s hull.

“Why, you slimy, double-crossing, no-good swindler!” The words were ground out through gritted teeth and Lando Calrissian’s eyes flashed outrage as he came to a sudden stop just within arm’s reach of Han, squaring off for a duel. “You’ve got a lot of guts coming here, after what you pulled.”

Han pointed both his hands at his own chest and mouthed an innocent, “Me?” It had to be the most disingenuous gesture she’d seen Han make in weeks. She wasn’t the least bit surprised that it appeared to make Calrissian grow angrier.

Calrissian took another step closer into Solo’s personal space and then jerked his hands up as if about to land a much-deserved punch. Solo’s reaction was instant, bringing his fists up in self-defense.

Maybe that was just the response the stranger was looking for—to see that flash of fear on Han’s face—because rather than strike, Calrissian suddenly grasped Han’s forearms then closed the distance to throw his arms around Solo in a tight hug. Lando’s dark mustachioed features broke into a dazzling smile as he let out a booming laugh in the quiet morning air. Then he stepped back to grip Han’s upper arms and shake him hard.

“How you doing, you old pirate? So good to see you! I never thought I’d catch up with you again. Where’ve you been?”

Clearly still on guard, Han unclenched his fists and returned the loose embrace; only then did his face break out in a wide grin.

Standing beside Leia, Threepio shuffled forward in delight. “Well, he seems very friendly.”

That uneasy feeling wouldn’t go away, but at least she could feel grateful that things hadn’t ended up in a brawl. “Yes…very friendly,” she echoed. Realizing it would be appropriate to join them now, but reluctant to emerge from the shadows where she could continue to observe unnoticed, she paused long enough to summon up her most neutral diplomatic mask before following.

“What are you doing here?” Calrissian babbled on with gusto.

Han pointed a thumb over his shoulder at his ship. “Ahh…repairs. I thought you could help me out.”

Calrissian adopted a sudden look of exaggerated concern. “What have you done to my ship?”

Either Han was more sensitive about that subject than he’d let on or this was an old joke between them because his manner took on a sharp defensive tone. “Your ship? Hey! Remember, you lost her to me fair and square.”

Calrissian dropped the topic and glanced past Solo. “And how are you doing, Chewbacca? You still hanging around with this loser?”

«Hello, Calrissian.»

_Now that’s tact._

For some reason, Leia hadn’t thought to discuss the topic of Lando Calrissian with Chewie during their trip, and all of a sudden she regretted the oversight as it was obvious there was a story here. As she drew near, Calrissian seemed to finally notice her. The lightning-swift change in his expression caused her to reassess her initial impression of the man: He was all instant charm, a pro.

“Hello. What have we here?” He zeroed in on her, abandoning Han as he advanced forward to hold out his hand. “Welcome. I’m Lando Calrissian. I’m the administrator of this facility. And who might you be?”

_I might be on to you already._

Leia’s innate ability to read people had served her well in the Imperial Senate and numerous less-than-legit negotiations since, and she now recognized Han’s truth in description from the moment her eyes locked with Lando’s: gambler, con artist, scoundrel—a different sort of scoundrel, perhaps, but one nonetheless. His tone and gestures were more appropriate for a ballroom reception than the middle of an exposed docking platform on a gas-mining facility, but then some women were easily swayed. Han must have known this, too, because he grimaced and walked off to the side while running his hand through his hair in a failed attempt to hide his discomfort.

_I do believe the man is jealous!_

Suddenly and perversely intrigued, she accepted Lando’s hand and matched his charm with a smile that had once dazzled more than a few politicians back in the day. “Leia.”

“Welcome, Leia.” Lando bowed to kiss the back of her gloved hand.

That seemed to push Han’s last button. He stepped around from behind Lando to peer down at her, monitoring her expression like he might the dashboard gauges on the _Falcon_. Her eyes rose to meet his hazel ones, teasing him, daring him.

_One more rescue, for old time’s sake?_

Han hesitated, then grinned as if only now getting her drift. He butted in, reaching to remove her hand from Lando’s, keeping her hand securely in his own as he passed between them, breaking the mood. “All right, all right…you old smoothie.”

She rewarded Han with a genuine smile, beaming up at him as he steered her away from the others and toward the city entrance. “You never mentioned he was so charming,” she said in her best innocent tone.

“Why would I give a man like that a head start?” Han mumbled back with a lopsided grin—the one for which he knew she lacked any immunity.

They were prevented from any more banter when Lando caught up beside them. “What’s wrong with the _Falcon_?”

Han gave her hand a solid squeeze before letting go. Leia deliberately dropped back to trail behind Han, allowed them to talk shop while she clamped her hands behind her back to keep them from clenching at her sides. She wanted to admire the surprising elegance and beauty of the industrial city they were entering, the white and rounded architecture that complemented the natural beauty of the clouds around them, but something still ate at her. Even so, there was a strong temptation to take their time at this outpost city, enjoying anonymity together, being just Han and Leia this one time while outside the confines of the _Falcon_.

_Stop it. Don’t forget why you’re here. This isn’t a social junket._

Han tossed a quick glance over his shoulder to check on her as they neared the doors, perhaps sensing her internal struggle.

Lando swung around, walking backwards long enough so he could meet her gaze, his animated comments all for her benefit. “You know, that ship saved my life quite a few times. She’s the fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy!”

Leia granted Calrissian a nod of agreement before meeting Han’s eyes again, letting her affection show once more.

_Yes, the_ Falcon _has a habit of doing that._

As they passed through the open doors and into the city proper, Leia divided her attention between the ongoing conversation and the beautiful surroundings. Random pieces of artwork and expansive viewports were scattered throughout the wide, white corridors in a deliberate attempt to make the enclosed city as appealing as possible.

Solo’s laugh snapped Leia’s attention back to him—some things had not changed—and she watched as Calrissian gave him a cautious look and asked, “What’s so funny?”

“You. Listen to you! You sound like a businessman, a responsible leader. Who’d have thought that, huh?”

Lando paused, bringing their little party to a halt in the middle of the corridor. “You know, seeing you sure brings back a few things.”

“Yeah.” Han appeared to reminisce as he gripped Lando on the shoulder. But there was something slightly off in his response as he glanced past Lando to give Leia yet another pointed look.

Unable to tell if it was meant to prove that his friend was reliable, or if he’d been reminded of things he’d have preferred left forgotten, she cocked an eyebrow and tipped her head as if to say, “You have a friend with a legitimate job. Very impressive.”

Lando resumed walking, leading them over toward a bank of turbo lifts. “Yeah, I’m responsible these days. It’s the price you pay for being successful.” He ushered them into an empty lift and punched the key for the top level.

“I’m surprised you’ve stuck with this place. I’d have figured you’d put it up in another wager by now,” Han admitted.

Lando laughed. “Who says I haven’t? I just happen to win those hands. You’re the only one I regularly lost to.”

“Huh, go figure.” Standing across from her, Han gave her a little wink, and Leia got the distinct impression she would have lost every hand of strip sabacc had she ever taken him up on any of those offers.

“I’m taking you up to our VIP suite,” Lando said. “I’ll also get a crack team of mechanics assigned to the _Falcon_. If there’s anything else you need, I can have it sent up.”

Leia opened her mouth to respond, but Han beat her to it. “Thanks, Buddy, but don’t go to too much trouble. We won’t be staying long.”

Lando’s smile was suave and directed at her. “Nonsense. You’re my guests. Lobot, my assistant, will arrange everything while you’re here. I’m sure you’d prefer something a bit more comfortable than that old ship. Some place with a better view. You won’t find one more beautiful in this whole quadrant.”

“It is a lovely city,” Leia agreed, glancing from one man to the other, still trying to determine the relationship between them; something in Calrissian’s manner seemed tense, on guard, even though he was working overtime to disguise it with polished protocol.

_Protocol_.

It took a moment for Leia to recognize what felt out of place. She’d been so distracted by their new surroundings and the interplay between old friends, and become so used to not having a nattering droid in the background, that she hadn’t noticed Threepio’s disappearance.

“Han…” she said, trying to mask her alarm while getting his attention. “Threepio….”

Han frowned for an instant, as if wondering why she would bring him up now, and then realization dawned on him, too, and he glanced around the lift. “Where the hell did he go?”

Lando looked confused. “I’m sorry, is something wrong?”

“Ah, it’s our protocol droid. He was right behind us a minute ago. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

Lando nodded in apparent sympathy. “Don’t worry, he can’t be far. I’ll have my people track him down.”

The lift slowed to a stop and they stepped out into a brightly lit corridor where an arched threshold led down into a sunken lounge. Lando gestured for them to step in then followed behind.

The room was circular, elegant, and airy, a penthouse suite with a graceful skylight that let in the morning light to dramatic effect. The center of the common area was decorated with a twisting crystalline sculpture in the center, circled by a simple but stylish seating arrangement and glass tables. An entire half of the room’s wall was made of transparasteel, offering a commanding view of the city below and the shifting cloud banks of scarlet and orange beyond. There were also two doors lining the curved walls that Leia assumed led to private sleeping chambers.

Leia walked over to the window to gaze out at the still-sleepy city outside. Her first instinct was to search for the _Falcon_ , but she couldn’t spot the docking platform in question; their journey through the winding corridors and lifts had mixed up her sense of direction. Han was much better at that sort of thing, but it still made her nervous that she no longer knew where they were in relation to the ship.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lando catch Han by his shirtsleeve, tugging him off to the side. Although their voices were subdued, she could still make them out.

“Han, I wasn’t sure how many rooms you needed. Are you two…you know…?”

“Yeah. We are.”

There was a possessive, defensive quality to Han’s answer, intended to leave no doubt that she was hands-off. While Leia suspected this might have been his answer even if they weren’t lovers, there was no denying the surprised thrill at seeing no hesitation in his public admission of their romantic involvement. They were officially “an item.”

“I see. Well, my friend, clearly either your taste or your luck has improved.”

Leia sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, her mood shifting again. She didn’t know whether to be flattered or embarrassed, but she was very certain that the novelty of being compared to mysterious women from Han’s past would wear off very quickly. Even now she could feel the two sets of eyes appraising her while they spoke, and it took all of her self-control to keep from telling the men to take it outside.

“How soon do you think those technicians can start work on the _Falcon_?” Han queried, redirecting the conversation.

“I’ll make sure it’s right away.”

“Great. I’ll go back to let them aboard. One other thing….” Han paused so long that Leia glanced back at him, wondering why he’d gone quiet. He sent her what looked like a preemptive half-smile of apology. “Is there any way you could maybe arrange something like a personal shopper for Leia? We had to leave in a hurry and it’s been a long trip. She could use some proper clothing, that sort of thing.”

Leia had to give Han credit for reading her mood better than she expected, and for coming up with a good solution. Tempted as she might otherwise have been to shop for new clothing, walking around in her current garb would only invite unwanted attention, something she felt desperate to avoid. The idea of a personal shopper would also appeal to this sort of man, as would the chance to dress her up. Still, she could tell that Han was anything but thrilled with the idea of putting her that much further under Calrissian’s influence.

Lando agreed with a zealous nod. “Of course! It would be my pleasure.”

“I didn’t mean by _you_ , Buddy.”

Lando laughed, holding up his hands in defense, getting the point. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Han. I’ll send Giesla right up. She’s another assistant of mine. She’s done that sort of thing before and she’ll know just what to do.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it. Just add it on my tab.”

“Riiiiight.” There was obvious skepticism in Calrissian’s statement, as if he’d heard that promise before.


	26. Chapter 26

Han had known things were bad—far worse than he would have let on in front of Leia—but it wasn’t until the dedicated team of ship mechanics arrived and began evaluating the _Falcon_ that he got a good look at the outer hull. It was luck that the hyperdrive had failed. The ship wouldn’t have withstood the extreme stresses of a hyperjump in the condition she was in and they would have most likely suffered a catastrophic implosion.

This unfortunate fact meant that, aside from a brief break for lunch with Leia back in the suite, most of his day had been spent overseeing and approving the repairs. It was sobering and satisfying work, but there was a part of him reluctant to relinquish the dwindling time he might otherwise have spent spoiling Leia. Lando had made it clear that everything was on the house, and after witnessing the gambler’s unabashed ogling of her, Han intended to drain the coffers dry.

Moments ago, Han had used the comlink he’d given Leia to check in and let her know he was on his way back. She had sounded tense, her words clipped, and he was left with the impression she wasn’t happy stewing alone, wasn’t happy with the fact that Threepio was still missing—as if she’d once missed that damned droid over the past four weeks!—and wouldn’t be happy until they blasted back out of Bespin’s gravitational pull. Maybe it was just as well he was out of firing range most of the day; it had been a relatively long time since he’d seen her in a foul mood, but experience told him that he was often the target.

Bespin’s days were significantly longer than standard, stretching well into what his internal clock considered evening, thus daylight was still burning bright as Han stood on the docking platform, watching the repair crew wrap up their work for the day. Despite Calrissian’s tendency toward exaggeration, Han had to admit the team was skilled; his friend had not pawned off a gaggle of droids on him, as was typical of public dock services, but instead had sent talented sentient techs. He was pleased with how much they’d accomplished in the day.

Now he felt hungry and tired, and wasn’t looking forward to Leia’s reaction when he informed her they would have to stay overnight. He hoped that treating her to a gourmet meal might be enough to turn her mood and their reluctant stay into something more pleasant. Seeing her in different settings and lighting, in and out of whatever new clothing she’d picked out, held a lot of promise, and more than anything, he wanted this last opportunity to treat her in a way she deserved before he had to leave her. Maybe for this one night, they could pretend they had a normal life together.

Chewie escorted the last of the mechanics down the boarding ramp, and Han thanked them as they filed past on their way back into the city. He waited as Chewie sealed up the ship and walked over to join him. Together they paused and eyed the _Falcon_ in the comfortable silence of longtime friends, and then Chewie glanced at him.

«What are you thinking?»

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” Han sighed and shook himself, then turned on his heel. “They’re doing a good job.”

«Yes. That’s some of the cleanest fusing I’ve seen.»

“I figure at this rate, we’ll be done before lunch tomorrow.”

«I think so, too.» There was another long silence as they walked toward the large white doors before Chewie voiced the same doubt that had been niggling at his own conscience all day. «I don’t believe Calrissian has suddenly grown a sense of charity. He’s working some angle. He always has an angle.»

“I know, Chewie. I know. I just haven’t figured out what it is yet.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to dislodge the tickling along his spine; he’d been feeling like they were being watched, but had failed to spot anything out of the ordinary. “Maybe he’s just mellowed over time.”

The Wookiee woofed in gentle amusement. «Well, someone has.»

Han shot him a pointed look. “You start spreading that rumor around and you’re fired.”

«You can’t fire me if I quit first.»

“Empty threat. Your reputation is linked with mine.”

«Nonsense. I have a wife and little one. I’m respectable.»

Han felt his expression falter for a second as guilt and an inexplicable sense of longing warred within him, but he pushed those feelings back to whatever dark recess they’d come from. “Sure. That’s why you’re only _third_ on Jabba’s hit list.”

«It’s clearly an oversight. I should be second.»

Han let out a laugh but then sobered again. “Would you mind much if I took Leia out for some dinner alone tonight?”

The Wookiee paused to give him a mystified look. «Why would I mind?»

He shrugged, not really having an answer. In all the years of their partnership, it had been just the two of them; women had never played more than cameo roles, but that old formula was changed, the dynamics altered, and he wasn’t sure how much or what to make of it yet.

«Did the princess mention if the droid has turned up yet?»

“Yeah, there’s no sign of him and she sounds pretty upset. Kreth, all this time I’ve wanted to ditch his shiny ass, and he has to go and do it _now_? He’s got worse timing than a Federation chrono. I’m starting to think somebody programmed him that way on purpose.”

«It wouldn’t surprise me.» Chewie glanced at the waiting lift. «Go enjoy the evening. I’ll take a walk around and see if I can find him.»

“Thanks, Buddy. I appreciate it.”

Han stepped into the lift and punched in the code for the penthouse suite while continuing to muse on possible plans. Yes, maybe a good dinner alone with Leia, followed by a quiet walk before heading back to the suite to appreciate the sunset from a more horizontal vantage point—that sounded just about right.

Han arrived to find Leia standing at the far side of the main chamber of their suite, hands on her hips as she paced in front of the expansive window. She was dressed now in the local fashion, hers an ensemble of rust-red tunic, matching slacks, and cape of sheer white lace. She’d changed her hair as well; it was pulled back into a set of double-loop braids like she’d debuted a week or two ago—a style that he’d said he’d liked before proceeding to destroy it in his enthusiasm.

However, Han only had a moment to appreciate her new appearance this time before she launched at him.

_Oh, Kest. I know that look. So much for romance._

He braced himself like a man walking into a strong headwind and said, “The ship’s almost finished. Two or three more things and we’re in great shape.”

Leia marched over, wagging a finger, her expression stormy. “The sooner the better! Something’s wrong here. No one has seen or knows anything about Threepio. He’s been gone too long to have gotten lost.”

_That’s what I get for leaving her up here alone all day. She’s had nothing to do but brood._

When she drew close enough, Han grasped her shoulders and bent to kiss her forehead, then ran a thumb over her cheek, a little amazed by how different—older—she looked with makeup reapplied. “Relax. I’ll talk to Lando and see what I can find out.” His effort to soothe her fears seemed to pay off as her expression softened and she relaxed beneath his hands; it was a powerful lesson, to learn he had the ability to calm her with a simple touch—when had that happened?

“I don’t _trust_ Lando,” Leia said, her emphasis leaving no uncertainty as she stepped away and sank down onto the closest couch, an S-curved design that allowed a couple to sit facing one another. Interpreting the move as an invitation to join her, he stepped around the other side and sat.

“Well, I don’t trust him, either, but he is my friend,” Han reasoned. Considering they still had little choice in the matter, there seemed no point in stressing over it. “Besides, we’ll soon be gone.”

She paused and tilted her head a little, as if reassessing him. “And then you’re as good as gone, aren’t you?”

The question hit him like a body blow, delivered with the accuracy of someone used to wielding words like weapons. What was worse, he lacked any real defense. He’d almost convinced himself that this debate was settled but he should have known better, should have anticipated she wouldn’t give up if there was any hint of weakness in his determination.

Unable to find an answer either of them would be happy with, he glanced down, but then something made him look back up to meet her eyes—they were a beautiful warm brown in the bright sunlight, rich and striated like the finest polished wood—and he was no longer afraid to let her see whatever she might find in his.

“It’s taking every bit of self-control I have not to lock you in my cabin, set a course for the far end of the Beyond, and never look back.”

Despite her composed appearance, there was an aura of coiled energy around her, as though she were ready to spring at anything that got them away from this place.

“Why don’t you?” she asked.

Her expression remained intense, her eyes steady, and Han realized with another jolt that she was serious.

For an instant, he let that fantasy flit through his mind again, never feeling more tempted than in that moment. Jabba couldn’t live forever; sooner or later, an underling or rival would take him out or the Empire would tire of his antics. All Han would have to do is hunker down on some backwater planet, cut all ties and disappear for a while. It was the same advice his old friend and employer, Saltanos, had given him back on Ord Mantell, only—this time—Leia was proposing coming along and disappearing with him.

The fact was that for all anyone knew, they’d died above Hoth, destroyed by the Imperial Fleet or an asteroid collision. There would never be a better opportunity for both of them to vanish.

 _Here’s your chance, just what you wanted. Why the hell aren’t you running for the_ Falcon _right now?_

Yesterday, when he’d toyed with the idea—when it had seemed little more than a daydream, he’d been so sure he would leap at the chance, but now he found himself sighing, all certainty gone. Hell, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d reinvented himself and he supposed it wouldn’t be the first time for Leia, either, not after Alderaan. But was she really willing to go through it again—to abandon what little was left of her previous life and start over with a completely new identity and little else but the roaming life he could offer? Would they ever be able to come back? Would they ever be able to stop worrying about their past catching up with them?

_You already know the answer._

“Because there’s got to be more in our lives than just each other, and the Rebellion is a big part of yours.” He moved a hand to cover one of hers that rested on the couch between them; he squeezed it, trying to find words that didn’t come easily to him. “Because you wouldn’t really be happy for long. Someday, you’d probably resent me for taking you away from what you need to do here, and I couldn’t live with that…. It doesn’t mean I’m not tempted, though. Every minute. But that’s not what you want, is it? Not really.”

Her eyes dropped away, down to their intertwined hands. “I want you.”

Hearing her say that was enough to make his heart trip up. “I think…I think maybe we both want the same things, Sweetheart. But it’s just not possible right now, and running away’s not your style.”

For the briefest second, he detected fear in her beautiful face, as though she’d been reminded of things assumed forgotten. “Is it yours?”

“Not anymore,” he said, and the answer surprised him. Chewie was right—it was obvious who had mellowed. “I just have to take care of some old business first. You know that. I can’t think about anything else until I do this.”

Not looking back up, Leia instead watched her thumb graze the top of his hand. She seemed to be working up to another question, but they were interrupted without warning by the arrival of Chewbacca, who hunched in through the doorway, his arms loaded with a crate filled with recognizable golden parts.

«I’ve found the droid! I was almost too late.»

Leia was up off the couch in an instant as she stepped over and peered down at the remains Chewie deposited on a neighboring bench. “What happened?”

«There’s blaster scoring on his chest plate. I found him in Reclamation.»

Any sense of peace Han had managed to cultivate evaporated faster than a mud puddle in Mos Eisley. “Where?”

Chewie stopped rummaging through the parts and gave him a look of disbelief, waving one of the droid’s detached arms. «Reclamation, heading for the smelter. I don’t think this was an accident.»

“Found him in a junk pile,” Han mused. There’d been countless instances when he was tempted to take the annoying droid apart via the liberal use of his largest wrench, but he couldn’t imagine what the droid could have done in such a short time to earn a blaster bolt. Well, no, he could actually imagine one or two things, but still….

«He was about to be recycled,» the Wookiee clarified, and his implication was obvious—somebody had tried to hide the evidence.

“Oh, what a mess,” Leia sighed. “Chewie, do you think you can repair him?”

«I don’t know. It’ll take a while.»

Not bothering to get up, his intention to maintain an air of confidence he no longer felt, Han gestured to their surroundings. “Lando’s got people who can fix him.”

Leia frowned back as if reading right through him. She really was too good at that. “No, thanks.”

He couldn’t blame her; she was tired of fending off Lando’s solicitations and that sort of help would just place her that much deeper into the man’s debt.

They were interrupted again by the chime from the lobby entrance, and Han groaned as Calrissian stepped down into the room. His timing couldn’t be worse.

«We’ve got company,» Chewbacca rumbled.

“I’m sorry. Am I interrupting anything?” Lando asked as he surveyed the tableau.

“Not really,” Leia answered, her voice cooling faster than a cup of kaffe in the Echo Base canteen; her change in body language was instant and palpable as she drew the lacework cape around her.

The gesture wasn’t lost on Lando, but he took in her response with grace and eased into the sort of predatory smile Han had seen him use on more than a few beguiled women over the years. “You look absolutely beautiful. You truly belong here with us among the clouds.”

Clamping a hand over his mouth, Han smothered a laugh. Lando’s repeated efforts at seduction were wasted; he was way out of his league with Leia. Hell, it had taken Han over a year of steady siege work to get past her barricades, and she had _liked_ him!

Still, the constant attention Lando kept paying her, as if she were the rich pot in some high-stakes sabacc game between them, was getting on Han’s last nerve. The fact this clearly made Leia uncomfortable solidified his own irritation.

“Thank you,” she conceded with a regal nod, now every centim the princess he sometimes forgot shared space with his Leia. It was a fascinating exercise, trying to reconcile the passionate woman he’d recently awakened with the glacially cool one standing before him now.

_Was she ever that cold with me? I don’t think so._

Lando stepped closer and held out a hand. “Would you join me for a little refreshment?”

«Refreshment?» Chewbacca hooted in enthusiasm.

“Everyone’s invited, of course,” Calrissian added, realizing after the fact that he’d only invited her.

Reluctantly taking Calrissian’s proffered hand, Leia glanced back to Han. Recognizing his cue, he rose and walked over to offer a bent elbow as another option. She switched to his arm without hesitation, and he liked to imagine they’d officially become a united front in that moment, the rest of the universe be damned.

Recovering with grace, Lando sent an inscrutable look down at the remnants of Threepio now abandoned on the couch. “Having trouble with your droid?”

“No, no problem. Why?” Han hedged, as if protocol droids fell apart on a regular basis. Not waiting for a response or any more questions, he led Leia toward the door.

Traffic through the hallways had picked up as the evening progressed and there were many more people going about for pleasure now as the trio followed Lando’s lead through the corridors. As their conversation returned to the topic of Lando’s business, Han suspected that despite her desire to be gone from this place, the Alliance Mistress of Ways and Means was hard at work. While this single-mindedness had annoyed him in the past—most often because it meant she wasn’t paying attention to him, he enjoyed watching her in action now. Maybe it was because for once, he was pretty sure that no matter how preoccupied, she still reserved a part of that big heart just for him.

“So you see, since we’re a small operation, we don’t fall into the jurisdiction of the Empire,” Calrissian was explaining as Han tuned back in on their conversation.

“So you’re part of the Mining Guild, then?” Leia asked, and Han got the feeling she was trying to pin him down, as though he’d been avoiding a solid answer.

_Good luck with that, Sweetheart._

“No, not actually. Our operation is small enough not to be noticed, which is advantageous for everybody since our customers are anxious to avoid attracting attention to themselves.”

Frowning, Han couldn’t quite square that explanation with his understanding of the business; never mind the membership fees, there were definite advantages to working within the guild…unless there was more to this operation than Lando was letting on. “Aren’t you afraid the Empire is going to find out about this little operation and shut you down?” he asked, jumping in on the conversation.

“It’s always been a danger. It looms like a shadow over everything we’ve built here, but things have developed that will ensure security.”

«Solo…» Chewbacca gave a cautious growl, subtly trying to get his attention. «Something isn’t right….»

Han had to agree with Chewie on that. Besides the dodgy answers from Calrissian, he’d begun to notice the increased frequency of the powder-blue uniformed police that peppered the corridors of the city, but before he could ask if there had been a recent crime wave or something, Lando brought their little party to a stop in front of a set of double doors.

“I’ve just made a deal that’ll keep the Empire out of here forever,” Lando continued as he reached up to thumb the entrance stud and the doors swished open.

«Look out!» Chewbacca’s deafening bellow echoed in the corridor around them.

It took Han just a second longer to react, registering his partner’s roar as he turned from Lando’s cryptic expression to peer into to the room and recognize the black visage that rose to stand at the far end.

Han was fast. Years of practice and necessity had honed his skills to near-Jedi-like speed. Without needing to think, his blaster was in his right hand even as he grabbed Leia’s closest hand in his left to pull her behind him. And yet, as quick as he pulled the trigger, Darth Vader was faster. The well-aimed bolts of energy glanced off the Sith Lord’s outstretched hand to singe the pristine white walls of the dining room, then the blaster was yanked from Han’s hand like a toy from a child. Han watched in mute disbelief, splaying his hand in a futile attempt to recapture the blaster as it flew across the length of the table separating them to land in Vader’s black glove.

“We would be honored if you would join us,” Vader spoke, his modulated voice deep and out of sync with the rasping mechanical breathing that filled the room.

Han had never met Vader in person—in fact, he’d hoped, like any other sensible being, never to do so. But it was clear his luck had run out. To drive home the fact, there was movement behind Vader as another familiar and equally frightening figure emerged from behind a service screen. It was a bounty hunter, Boba Fett, a very real nightmare of Han’s own, complete with Wookiee scalps dangling as grisly trophies from his battle-scarred body armor.

Too late, Han took a step back and turned to run back the way they’d come, but a squad of white-armored stormtroopers, led by Calrissian’s assistant, assembled to block the exit. Trapped and disarmed, he realized that the game was up and Lando had finally shown his hand.

“I had no choice,” Calrissian explained, as if anyone wanted to hear him anymore, as if anyone needed his excuses. “They arrived right before you did. I’m sorry.”

Han felt the princess move at his side and looked down to find her eyes wide and locked on him, filled with elemental fear. He sought out her hand once more, and she gripped it so tight he winced as he turned back to Lando, his thoughts turning lethal. “I’m sorry, too.”

«You miserable coward,» Chewbacca growled in disgust.

All their attentions were snapped back to the dining room by Vader’s booming voice. “Your Highness, we have unfinished business to discuss.” His black mask turned as he gestured, directing Fett forward. “Secure Captain Solo and the Wookiee, but you are not to leave until I am finished. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly,” Fett answered.

Han felt sweat break out on the back of his neck as the bounty hunter headed toward them, a heavy blaster leveled at his chest. Alarmed that they would be separated, he looked to Leia once more to find her full lips had almost disappeared into a grim line, her features pale, her eyes the darkest he’d ever seen them. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to end for them—not like this. They were supposed to have a proper goodbye and she was supposed to be far away from this sort of danger. This couldn’t be the last time he saw her, not like this, so scared that he barely recognized her. He’d sworn to protect her, to keep her monsters at bay, and he was about to fail utterly.

Although no longer caring about his fate—he’d been resigned to that since Ord Mantell, Han was sick with fear at the thought of Leia back in Vader’s clutches and, worst of all, that he was to blame for everything. It was his fault that his ship had failed, that bounty hunters and the Empire were conspiring together to capture him, and that she was now back at this monster’s mercy.

All the things he still wanted to say to her, all the good things he’d ever wished for her, clamored for priority, yet the surge of words overwhelmed him. “Leia….”

Her grip on his hand tightened. “I’ll be okay,” she lied.


	27. Chapter 27

This was another nightmare—it had to be. She needed to wake up now. Here was Han’s cue to enter her dream and make it stop, to derail the horror and take her somewhere far away from this pain as she watched Boba Fett and the squad of stormtroopers march Han and Chewbacca away, leaving her behind with Calrissian and the worst denizen of her darkest dreams.

“Please, Your Highness. Take a seat.”

Leia stared at Vader for a long moment before something deep within her, some ingrained bit of diplomatic training, finally kicked in. Dignity was all she had left, so she moved into the room and along one side of the table.

Lando began to follow her in but Vader stopped him at the threshold. “Leave us, Calrissian. You have business to attend to. I recommend you do so.”

Calrissian hesitated, as if loath to leave her alone with this monstrosity, but Leia didn’t want him there; she would rather deal with Vader one-on-one than have to look at him anymore. As the doors slid closed following his departure, her eyes locked on the expressionless mask turned toward her. She stopped halfway down the length of the table, one hand coming to rest on the back of a chair—the gesture was meant to appear casual, but it kept her from swaying on her feet.

In surprise, she watched as Vader resumed his seat at the head of the table and then indicated with a simple gesture that she should follow suit. “Sit down. We have matters to discuss.”

Teeth clenched, Leia remembered their last “discussion”; she could never forget it. Despite his best interrogation efforts, that conversation had remained very one-sided, something she was determined to repeat. The last time, however, she’d been steadier and more fearless than she felt now. Last time, she hadn’t guessed yet what was truly at stake; she hadn’t known what her defiance would cost in the end. She drew out a chair and perched straight-backed on the edge with hands folded in her lap, her heart pounding so hard that he could probably hear it from across the table.

Vader’s reverberating voice, the stuff of her nightmares, finally broke the tense silence. “You should know that while I find your politics and sympathies misguided at best and extremely dangerous at worst, I respect your tenacity. You are a skilled adversary.”

The last thing Leia expected was a compliment, no matter how backhanded, but if he was expecting her to return the favor, he would have to keep waiting.

Then she felt it—a growing pressure around her, within her, as if someone were leaning into that undefined but instinctual personal space most beings possessed and respected. Vader had not moved from his seat, and yet it was as though he were pressing in on her, and instinct made her back away into her chair, trying to clamp down on her fright at the unanticipated, invisible sensation that threatened to smother her senses, filling the air around her.

Before embarking on her brief career in espionage, Leia had learned of ways to block out pain; she’d developed resistance to certain drugs and other forms of standard manipulation, and even if she did talk, she had enough misinformation to keep them chasing phantoms for years. After the destruction of Alderaan, there was little else left to leverage against her…and yet somehow, this feeling was worse than all that. This was a dark and insidious psychic invasion that sought out wounds in her soul like her tongue would do with a lesion in her mouth, irresistibly returning to explore and prod despite the pain. It touched on her fear for Han, and for the fates of Luke and her other friends following the battle on Hoth; it peeled away scabs from old emotional injuries; it reawakened the guilt and fear that had nearly consumed her at dark times throughout her life—all the insecurities of a child thrust too soon upon the galactic stage, a young woman hopelessly in love, and a leader with too many deaths already on her conscience.

The pressure grew until her head pounded with each pulse of her blood and she almost cried out—not from pain but from the foreignness of it, the sheer power and wrongness of it, for it was also a part of her. Stiffening and searching in desperation for some untapped well of strength, something to make it stop, she envisioned blast doors in her mind—the most effective imagery she could think of—slamming down around her to block out the supernatural intrusion. While the effort wasn’t enough, she gasped at the small measure of relief it brought.

Vader’s helmet cocked to one side, studying her like some grotesque and curious bird.

As swift as the sensation had engulfed her, it was gone, dissipating like a fine mist. Released, Leia reached out to grasp the table edge to keep from slumping forward, and a long moment passed, the only sounds that of their labored breathing.

“Once again you surprise me. This is an unexpected development, but it does begin to explain my error.”

Leia couldn’t even begin to imagine what dark thoughts went on behind that mask, or what motivated such a man to admit any sort of mistake, and yet she recognized she’d just been measured and reassessed.

“You see, you were not the person I expected to arrive this morning. I suspected you had Force-talent the last time we met, and that was why I prevented your execution on the _Death Star_ , but Obi Wan interfered and enabled your escape before I could test you. Your talent is stronger than I imagined. I thought it was young Skywalker that I’d sensed aboard that Corellian freighter, but it was _you_.”

Stunned, confused, and now convinced Vader rode the edge of psychosis, Leia wrote off his explanation as nonsense. Luke was the only Force-user she knew, and she was anything but a Jedi—the concept was absurd. As for the rest of his words, she nearly laughed aloud. Was he expecting her to be _grateful_ for his sparing her life aboard the _Death Star_ , when more often than not, she’d found the guilt of surviving that holocaust more a curse than a blessing? As a manipulative ploy, it was surprisingly weak and clumsy.

“You’ll find the Force works in mysterious ways, Your Highness. I believe you may yet provide me that which I seek.”

Bracing herself, preparing for another mental onslaught, she watched as Vader rose from his chair and walked along the other side of the table to the entrance, his black cape billowing in his wake. Opening the doors, he summoned one of the stormtroopers outside. “Take the princess back to her quarters and keep her there until further notice.”

Baffled by the entire encounter, Leia collected her thoughts before standing. She knew better than to believe he was finished with her, but there seemed to be an agenda she’d yet to figure out.

Within minutes, Leia was escorted back into her expansive apartment, where a complement of troopers assumed positions to guard the exit, and although she’d held out hope of finding Han and Chewie waiting there, the only person occupying the sitting area was a woeful-looking Calrissian. Some rational part of her recognized he was likely just as much a pawn as the rest of them, but she wasn’t able to find an iota of pity within her at the moment and she didn’t bother hiding her disgust upon seeing him again. It didn’t help that he seemed determined to hover about her like some scavenger, perhaps hoping to pluck her away from the ruins in one last act of betrayal of his old friend.

“Where are Han and Chewie?” she demanded without preamble.

Lando swallowed. “Leia….”

“Where are Han and Chewie?” Neither her voice nor her inflection changed, but her dangerous intent was obvious the second time and he took a step back.

“They’re being held in detention cells. Lord Vader’s planning to….”

“He’s planning to _what_?”

The man looked like he couldn’t decide whether to be furious or lose his lunch. “He plans to torture them. I can’t do anything to stop that now, but we’re in negotiations to at least—”

For a reputed con artist, Calrissian was either astonishingly naive or flat-out delusional in thinking he had any leverage. “You’re a fool. Vader does not bargain. Get out.”

It was the sort of dismissal issued by someone accustomed to having royal decrees obeyed, the sort of command that oozed contempt and implied he was no longer worthy of her attention, the sort she’d heard others make but had never imagined herself using. Walking away without another look, Leia entering her sleeping chamber, where the door slid closed behind her. Only then, when she was alone, did she loosen the death grip she’d been holding on her emotions and her knees threatened to buckle as her entire body began to shake.

_Han_ ….

They were going to torture Han, torture Chewie. Tears threatened as she squeezed her eyes closed and pressed her face into her hands, trying to block out the anguish. This was all her fault that they would suffer; all her fault that Vader had chased them to this remote outpost and to the limits of their endurance. She was the main reason why they’d become so entangled with the Rebellion, despite their own protests of other priorities, and stayed on so long that their situation with Jabba became untenable. She was the danger, the curse, and now they would pay like so many others had.

_Han, I’m so sorry…._

It took long moments of deep breathing before her trained mind began taking over once more. Much as it pained her to admit it, Calrissian was right—there was little anyone could do now. This time, there would be no help, no handsome knights to charge in to her rescue; her heroes were already either locked up or light-years away, if alive at all. A sliver of hope remained that Han and Chewie might survive this disaster; the presence of the bounty hunter meant there was a vested interest in keeping them alive, at least until they were delivered to Jabba, at which time they could still beg for leniency. Her fate, on the other hand….

She would die, if not today, then very soon. The Emperor would want to capitalize on her recapture; he would stage a public execution to demonstrate what happened to saboteurs and spies and traitors. In fact, the Empire would have the distinct pleasure of killing her twice, if one counted the official announcement of her death following her capture above Tatooine over a year ago. Leia found a certain perverse pleasure in the thought—that even in death, she could make the Empire squirm at the inconvenience of having to explain why she was so hard to keep dead.

The possibility of violent death was a reality she’d accepted the day she started down this path, but what was tougher to accept was the idea that she’d lived on borrowed time for the past four weeks—that from the fateful moment the _Falcon_ ’s hyperdrive had failed, their destination had been anticipated, their fates already planned. The short eternity spent with Han, a precious gift, had been doomed even before it started. Why hadn’t she anticipated this trap? Why hadn’t she tried a little harder to find other options?

_Because there were no options, and you did anticipate it. You’ve felt it for a month._

Vader’s recent words echoed through her mind: “You’ll find the Force works in mysterious ways, Your Highness.”

An inexplicable chill raced through her, making the fine hairs along her neck stand at attention.

_Stop it! He’s manipulating you. He’s making you doubt everything you know._

Only then did she notice her old white thermal suit, now cleaned and folded, lying on a corner of the massive bed before her. Why had they bothered with all the pretense of comfort, the charade of a dinner, the repairing of the _Falcon_? If the Empire had arrived before them, why had it taken Vader a day to spring the trap? Was it all just to keep Calrissian compliant? Some vital bit of information was still missing, but she couldn’t find it.

Staring down at her old clothing—the pristine snow-white uniform from a battle fought and lost a lifetime ago it seemed, she then looked down at herself, at the blood-red clothing Calrissian had provided. Her skin itched as if reacting to the fabric.

Reaching an abrupt decision, Leia tore away the white cape of lace from her shoulders. If she was going to die, she would do so as a warrior and she would be dressed for the part. She would don the armor one last time.


	28. Chapter 28

Time slowed to a crawl and Leia didn’t know which promised to be worse, this Bespin day that refused to end or the coming night that would be just as long, spent trapped alone in the apartment. On edge, her senses tingling as if she were some sort of tuning fork that Vader’s actions had struck upon and set off in a steady humming, she ignored her aching feet and continued pacing the length of the central lobby window in an attempt to burn off the nervous energy surrounding her.

What was Vader waiting for? That impatient nature of hers just wanted him to get on with it, to end this game. The waiting and the unending fear of what was happening with Han and Chewbacca tore at her; not knowing their fate was a form of torture itself.

The main entrance door slid open with a hiss and Leia turned to see Lando in the doorway, accompanied by a squad of stormtroopers who were clearly here to retrieve her.

_When will you learn to be careful what you wish for?_

“You’re to come with us, Your Highness.” It was the first time Calrissian had used her title. He must have learned who she was from Vader, or maybe he’d finally pieced it together for himself.

Remaining silent, Leia walked past him, and the armored troopers assumed formation around them. Fleeting thoughts of grabbing a blaster and attempting one last suicidal escape occurred to her, but something made her hold back; the same intuition that had kept her from acting prematurely on Ord Mantell, on Thertur Major, and in a dozen other instances stayed her hand once more.

Minutes later, they reached the narrow corridors of a detention block, and in a moment of absurdity, she observed that there was some color to this city after all—the walls here were ruby red and oppressive. As their party was brought to a halt at a juncture of the hallways, Lando stepped off to the side to hold a quiet conversation with the commander of the Imperial soldiers.

That was when Leia heard it—a sound that seared her heart and would haunt her until her last breath. It was a long, unchecked scream of agony that made her gasp and spin toward the desperate cry. She knew it was Han without needing to see or hear anything else—she _knew_ as every fiber of her being cried out in empathic pain.

Perhaps anticipating trouble, the stormtroopers reacted in an instant when she tried to break away, the nearest two grabbing her arms to restrain her while the others swarmed closer.

“I thought you said they were _done_ with him,” Lando said in a furious whisper to the commander.

The Imperial officer shrugged, barely sparing a glance at the man. “Lord Vader has his reasons.”

As if summoned by the use of his name, the towering figure of Darth Vader emerged from a few doors down the hallway and headed toward them. The screaming had stopped but she could hear ragged gasps for breath coming from the cell before the door slid closed, cutting off the sound. It was obvious now that the timing of her arrival had been no accident. Hatred welled up within her. Here was the fiend intent on destroying every last bit of her existence before putting her out of her own misery, and it was all the two stormtroopers could do to keep her from wrenching away and attacking him in kind.

Vader moved past their little group and toward the exit, then stopped and turned back to her, his black helmet cocked again at a curious angle like some monstrous gargoyle. Without a word, he swung back away and disappeared around the corner.

Moments later, the door opened again and two more stormtroopers appeared, dragging Han’s limp body between them. His booted toes scuffed the floor as they hauled him across the passageway to another cell before dropping him into the entrance and sealing the door behind him. One of them signaled down the hallway toward her group.

“Go on,” the commander indicated with a thumb. “Put her in now.”

Leia was yanked forward and marched by force down the corridor, then jerked to a stop in front of the door and shoved in the moment it opened. Staggering to keep her balance, she found Chewbacca already in the cell, helping Han onto an unpadded sleeping platform. For one of the few times in her life, words failed her as she stepped over to Han’s side and fell to her knees on the hard decking. He looked ashen, exhausted, and still in great pain. Bringing a hand up to touch his face, as much to reassure herself he was alive as to comfort him, she fought back sudden tears as he visibly relaxed beneath her touch, his head tipping into her palm.

“Why are they doing this?” she moaned once she found her voice. Convinced she’d never see them again, the fact they were suddenly all thrown back together now made no sense.

“They never even asked me any questions.”

Han’s simple admission reflected and compounded her confusion. They both knew he was a wealth of Alliance information; the risk he’d presented to security had become a sore point within High Command as time passed and he’d continued to refuse a commission. Because he lacked the resistance training she’d undergone, he would have little protection if Vader pressed for answers. The fact Vader hadn’t bothered to interrogate her was no surprise—he’d tried and failed in the past, but she struggled to see the logic in why Vader was toying with Han like this. Vader was nothing if not a practical megalomaniac, and inflicting pain just because he could wasn’t his style. There had always been a method behind his lethal madness in the past, a clear military or political goal to justify his actions, and she searched in desperation for it now.

Combing her fingers through Han’s soft hair, Leia bowed and pressed her cheek to his forehead. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Han took a deep breath, no doubt about to protest her confession of guilt, but the cell door swished open behind Leia, making her jump and twist around. She saw Calrissian and two of his city guards enter their cell. Feeling Han stir, she turned back to Han and simply said, “Lando.” Her hope had been to keep him still—he needed to preserve his energy—but the spoken name had the opposite effect.

“Get out of here, Lando,” Han rumbled as he struggled up onto his elbows. Leia moved to wedge herself behind him to provide support once she realized he wasn’t going to stay down.

Chewbacca let out a fierce roar that either was beyond her translation skills or was never meant to be anything more than intimidating. It was indeed rewarding to watch Lando momentarily recoil.

“Shut up and listen,” Lando said in an urgent voice, abandoning any pretense of civility. “Vader’s agreed to turn Leia and Chewie over to me.”

“Over to you?” Han’s voice was hoarse and his tone bewildered.

“They’ll have to stay here, but at least they’ll be safe.”

“ _Safe_ ”? There was that ridiculous word again, as if she’d ever been safe in her life. Leia looked from Chewie to Han and then finally back up at Calrissian. “What about Han?”

“Vader’s giving him to the bounty hunter.”

She shook her head. The idea that Vader would leave any of them behind under some vague house arrest was absurd; they’d been annoying little stones in the Dark Lord’s boot for too long. “Vader wants us all dead.”

“He doesn’t want you at all! He’s after somebody named…Skywalker.”

“Luke?!” Han blurted out. He wasn’t alone in his shock and confusion.

But then, all at once, that last piece of information—the one missing all this time—fell into place for Leia: Vader’s cryptic comments, his uncharacteristic tactics, the bizarre sensations she’d been feeling since their encounter, and the reason they were still alive and together were all explained. In the span of one breath, she’d gone from not even knowing if Luke was still alive to learning that he was on his way, being drawn toward certain death. Vader was somehow using them—using her!—as his homing beacon. She stared up at Lando in horror.

“Lord Vader has set a trap for him,” Lando said, confirming her sudden enlightenment.

“And we’re the bait,” Leia spat out, shaking with anger and grief, devastated by the sweep of it all.

“Yeah, well, he’s on his way.”

“Perfect. You fixed us all real good, didn’t you?” Han muttered. Leia felt Han tense up against her, felt the fury swelling within him. He must have found some last reserve of strength because he pulled away from her and rose to stand eye-level with Calrissian. “ _My friend_!”

She should have recognized the signs, should have done something to stop him, but she was too late. Like a cornered Pantera, Han launched himself at Calrissian and landed a solid sucker punch before anyone else in the cell could react. But his last energy was spent and Han fell to his knees in the follow-through. The closest guard used the butt of his drawn blaster to strike the back of Han’s head, and Han collapsed to the floor, any remaining fight gone. Chewbacca roared again and the other guard had enough presence of mind to stand out of arm’s reach, but his blaster was pointed unwaveringly at the Wookiee’s chest.

“Stop!” Lando shouted, then sucked in his breath, nursing his jaw with one hand while holding up the other to keep the guard from kicking at Solo. “I’ve done all I can. I’m sorry I couldn’t do better, but I’ve got my own problems.”

Leia skirted around Lando to reach Han on the floor. She helped him up onto an elbow but he seemed incapable of doing anything more than glare up at Calrissian. She’d seen Han kill out of necessity—seen him act to protect himself and those he cared for—but she’d never suspected he was also capable of murder for revenge until that moment.

“Yeah, you’re a real hero,” Han sneered.

Maybe it was the gambler in Lando that recognized when to cut his losses, or maybe he was catching on that his presence was not welcome. For one reason or the other, he gave them one last look of pity before heading for the door, his guards covering his back as they followed him out.

Han sagged backward and Chewbacca was there to keep him from falling to the floor and doing any more damage to his head. Feeling ready to collapse as well, Leia sat back on her heels. Han groaned in pain and shrugged a stubborn shoulder, resisting their efforts to help. His eyes found hers and he offered the most pathetic smile she’d ever received from him. Seeing his effort made her heart ache anew.

“You certainly have a way with people,” she teased in a tired voice. As if their situation wasn’t bad enough, as if he hadn’t already endured enough pain, he’d also likely earned himself a concussion by punching Lando. She sincerely hoped it was worth the price.


	29. Chapter 29

_He’s alive…._

Brutal hands gripped Leia’s upper arms, hauling her up the flight of grated metal steps, across the catwalk that bridged a series of massive pipelines, and down the other side. She barely registering the rough treatment, occasionally stumbling because her eyes burned from carbonite fumes and unshed tears. A reactivated Threepio was babbling in the background about modern carbon-freezing technology, but she could barely hear him through the ringing in her ears, the haunting echo from when the slab of carbonite containing Han Solo was tipped over and slammed onto the deck with a mighty crash. All she felt was numb. Numb as if a part of her was flash-frozen along with Han.

As they emerged back into the antiseptic white of the outer corridor, leaving the hellish steam and vapors behind, Leia hesitated and squinted up into the sudden wash of blinding sunlight.

… _and in perfect hibernation._

This was worse than any nightmare because nightmares never lasted this long. She awoke from nightmares more or less back to normal, but this unbearable day stretched on and on, and she knew nothing would ever be the same again.

 _He’s alive_ ….

One of the soldiers shoved her from behind with the broadside of his blaster rifle, hard enough that she staggered and almost collided into the Imperial commander ahead of her, his dark gray uniform like a wall blocking her path. With a curt gesture, he began leading the squad of stormtroopers down the hallway.

«Touch her again and I will rip your head off,» Chewbacca snarled at the offending trooper.

At some point Chewie must have attempted to repair Threepio, but he’d only managed to reattach the head and one arm before their captors had returned to take them to the carbon-freezing chamber. The golden droid was now gathered up in a cargo net slung over the Wookiee’s strong shoulders, getting a backwards view of the events unfolding. He fretted at the threat as Chewie tested the restraints around his brawny arms, muscles bulging beneath his long hair.

The fact that Calrissian was the only person who reacted to Chewbacca’s menace made it obvious that none of them understood the Wookiee. “Tell your men to ease off,” Lando warned while giving Leia a renewed look of concern.

She wished him death.

 _No, not death. Worse_.

“I don’t need your sympathy.” Her voice sounded flat and cold, frozen like a Hoth glacier. Lando was leading them through the city toward Vader’s shuttle, while the bounty hunter had already taken away Han’s body…

_He’s alive!_

…to his own ship, to be delivered up like some frozen commodity to Jabba the Hutt.

“She’s an enemy of the Empire and a terrorist,” the Imperial commander responded in a superior tone. “You’re in no position to make demands. And shut that Wookiee up before I do.”

Calrissian’s expression turned into a silent plea for all of them to stay calm. “Unless you want a berserker Wookiee on your hands, I’m warning you to control your men. I know him.”

The officer sneered at Lando. “You’re lucky Lord Vader hasn’t arrested you already for associating with these traitors. We know you’re siphoning off a percentage to sell on the Black Market to this kind of scum. The Mining Guild and their lot will not protect you.”

Lando blanched even more, but Leia had stopped caring about any of that anymore; instead, she focused on calming the whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm her, knowing she needed to rein in her agony that was only serving Vader’s purposes. She recognized now that what the Sith lord had said was true; she could feel it even though she didn’t understand—didn’t want to understand—but it was there, surrounding her, vibrating through her. She could almost see it, like heat waves rippling the air on a hot summer day.

Luke was here already, in the city with them, and growing closer—she could sense that as well. Part of her rejoiced at the confirmation that he was alive, at feeling his vibrant presence once again, so familiar and comforting, but she suspected Luke felt their connection as well and she feared it was drawing him deeper into Vader’s trap.

_Luke, go away! Please, leave now!_

The fear of losing her best friend, along with Han, threatened to consume what little calm she had left. Why wouldn’t the men in her life listen to her? Was she doomed to lose them all to their own chivalry?

Desperation made her reach out with those same senses in an attempt to locate Han, to find reassurance in his essence as well, but there was nothing—no recognizable signature, none of the radiant aura she might have associated with him. Why could she sense Luke and yet be denied Han?

_He’s alive…and in perfect hibernation._

Still battling to understand, Leia marched with the rest in tense silence as they headed toward a bank of turbo lifts. Without warning, the sharp whine of a blaster bolt echoed from the corridor behind them, and a part of their entourage of troopers reacted, dropping back to engage while the officer swung around to grab her arms before she could make a move to escape. Frantic, Leia struggled to see beyond the phalanx of remaining soldiers, knowing it was Luke at the other end, just as sure as she’d known it was Han earlier in the detention block.

“Luke! Luke, don’t—!”

The commander almost yanked her off her feet as he pulled her into the closest open lift. Despite his clear advantage in height and muscle, desperation gave Leia new strength as she let out a roar of her own. Throwing out her hands to grab the threshold of the lift doors, she pulled herself out far enough to catch a glimpse of khaki overalls and familiar blond hair through the sparks and smoke from flying laser bolts. “It’s a trap! It’s a trap!” she screamed.

Multiple hands seized her this time and she was none-too-gently heaved back inside the lift, then slammed against the wall with a jolt hard enough that she failed to stifle a cry of pain when her shoulder and head connected with the metal surface.

With a deafening roar, Chewbacca flung his arms up in an attempt to break free from the bonds around his wrists. Everyone trapped inside the confines of the lift—including Leia—cringed away in mortal fear. As the Wookiee reared back, Threepio banged against the wall with a loud clang and let out his own wail of distress, adding to the din. Leia had come to know Chewie well over the past sixteen months, seeing him under pressure during countless heavy fire fights and hazardous flying conditions, but she’d never seen him like this. At this rate, he would get himself killed out of hand, all because of her, and she was certain she couldn’t bear that on top of everything else.

Clutching her bruised shoulder, head suddenly throbbing, it took all Leia’s resolve to fight back tears of hopelessness as she pleaded, “Chewie, stop! _Please!_ Don’t do this.”

«I promised Han I would protect you—!»

“You can’t if you’re dead! _Please_ , just stop! I’ll be okay.”

His huge frame trembled with rage as he strained against his arm cuffs, but those sky-blue eyes had found hers now and she could sense him beginning to ease away from the edge of madness. With a deliberate breath, Leia willed him to breathe along with her, and was mildly surprised when he did just that.

“Fucking Wookiees,” the officer muttered, eying them both with contempt. “They aren’t worth the trouble.”

Ignoring everything else, Leia had found a purpose and stayed locked on Chewie’s gaze like a tractor beam. “Do you remember Ord Mantell?”

Chewbacca took another deep breath, and then nodded. «I remember. I had to rescue you both.»

“That’s right. You kept a cool head and saved us just in time. Remember Thertur Major?”

His massive shoulders drooped as he began to relax. «Yes, I had to rescue you both as well, before—»

“Shut up, the both of you!”

Leia did shut up, but not without directing her most lethal gaze at the officer. She had achieved what she’d set out to do, creating an eye within the storm from which she could clear her head and calm the tempest of emotions radiating from her companion.

Although he was no longer nearby, she could also still barely sense Luke and hoped her warning had been enough to keep him from falling into Vader’s snare.

_Please, not Luke, too._

The lift slowed to a stop and the doors slid open.

“Out,” the commander ordered.

As they followed him into a foyer, Leia noticed Calrissian lingering in the elevator, letting them all leave first before falling in behind. No doubt he intended to slink off and disappear before these soldiers made good on their threat to arrest him. It was likely that Lando would take the _Falcon_ and run while he could. Maybe that had been his plan all along. It would explain why he’d assigned his best technicians to do real repairs to the ship, all without charge. He’d already known from the beginning that a means of fast escape might be necessary, and this allowed him to reclaim the _Falcon_ in the bargain. There it was—the con they’d all suspected he was working.

The bitter irony of the scheme made her ache all over again. What she wouldn’t give to be locked up in the _Falcon_ ’s cabin at that moment, kidnapped by a better class of scoundrel determined to steal her away to the farthest reaches of….

_I love you._

_I know._

The flashback caused Leia’s entire body to twitch, but the vision didn’t stop there: the last stolen moments of wordless intimacy as they’d held one another in the detention cell; Han’s desperate last kiss; his valiant attempt to be brave for them all; the instant when his expression changed from fear into resignation as he’d gazed up at her from the dropping platform, as if satisfied to know she would be the last thing he ever saw.

Feeling her body begin to tremble, Leia sucked in a harsh breath and tried to quell her nerves. The minutes were running down for her as well, draining away with each step she took; once aboard Vader’s ship, for better or worse, it would be over. But at least she had those memories of better times, however fleeting, something no one could take away from her. At least she’d known real happiness for a little while; she’d known and shared someone’s love, which was more than anything she’d come to expect in this life. That would provide the strength she needed now to prepare for what came next.

“Wait, you’re taking the long route,” Lando called out from behind them.

The commander glowered, bringing them all to a halt. “I know where the shuttle is docked, Calrissian.”

Passing the group, Lando joined him at the front of the procession. “But that’ll take us through the busiest part of the city, right when the evening traffic is picking up. There’ll be crowds and we don’t want the attention.”

“Very well. But it’d better be fast. Lord Vader is not a patient man.”

“Don’t worry. My men have cleared the hallways.”

Just as Lando had promised, the halls were vacant of curious bystanders as he led them down an adjoining passageway, and the wide intersection they approached was lined by at least a dozen of Cloud City’s guards, all standing at attention and blocking the alternate routes. Sparing no more than a cursory glance as she passed by, Leia saw there would be no opportunity of escape—every avenue was cut off.

Without warning, the guards drew their blasters and closed in from all sides in an ambush. Outnumbered and surprised, the stormtroopers surrendered without firing a shot, handing over their blaster rifles to Lando as he moved through the squad collecting weapons. Lobot, his cybernetic headpiece blinking red in the whitewashed hallway, stepped forward for further instructions as Lando passed most of the arms to men within his own guard.

“Well done,” Lando said in a tight whisper. “Hold them in the security tower—and keep it quiet! Move.”

Stunned, Leia watched as Lobot led the guards and their new prisoners away at a quick march, leaving her, Chewbacca with his chattering passenger, and Calrissian behind.

Wasting no time, Lando shoved the two remaining blaster rifles into her hands and turned to start working at undoing Chewie’s cuffs.

Leia’s head hurt terribly now, making it difficult to think; she juggled the heavy weapons and then stared at the man in bafflement. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“We’re getting out of here.”

“I knew all along!” Threepio exclaimed in unwarranted relief. “Had to be a mistake.”

Stepping around to glare at him, Leia didn’t bother hiding her distaste and skepticism. “Do you think that after what you did to Han, we’re going to trust you?”

Calrissian’s severe miscalculation regarding the measure of their gratitude was revealed a moment later when he unlocked Chewbacca’s restraints. The Wookiee let out an ear-ringing bellow before surging forward, his massive hands grabbing the man by the neck. Lando fumbled in a futile attempt to pry them away, but Chewie’s arms were sturdier than tree trunks; veins grew visible along Calrissian’s temples as his eyes bulged, while Leia looked on devoid of any sympathy.

“What are you doing? Trust him, trust him!” Threepio wailed.

“I had no choice—” Calrissian croaked out in a desperate attempt to plead his case as he fell to his knees, his face purpling.

The fact that Lando was still alive enough to struggle, that his neck wasn’t already snapped or his windpipe crushed, was evidence that Chewie was taking his time. «I’m going to enjoy this.»

Giving in to her own wrath, Leia glared at Han’s old “friend.” “Oh, we understand, don’t we, Chewie? He had no choice.”

«We always have choices, Princess,» Chewbacca replied, his cool response at odds with his actions. «I’m making one right now.»

“—just trying to help—”

“We don’t need any of your help,” Leia spat back.

Much as she wanted to let Chewbacca enjoy his revenge, they didn’t have the luxury of dragging this out much longer. Straightening up and glancing around, Leia redirected her attention and assessed their new situation. This was just the sort of opportunity they’d needed. All the guards were gone and the city was not fully occupied by Imperial forces, at least not yet; with most of the Imperial shore detail secreted away to the brig and Vader already preoccupied, they could very well pull this off. But she had no clue where they were in relation to the _Falcon_ or any other mode of escape. What they needed was a fast way off the mining colony before the alarm went out and more troops could land.

If only she knew for sure that Luke had heeded her warning and would be okay. A desperate part of her wanted to use their mysterious link to track him down and bring him along, but she also knew Vader waited at the other end of that link as well, like a web spinner lying in wait for his prey, and to follow that thread would only land them all back within his deadly grasp.

Lando was straining for air. “H-a-a-a…H-a-a-n.”

Leia swung back, her anxious train of thought shattered. “What?”

“It sounds like ‘Han,’” Threepio supplied, his twee voice anxious.

Chewbacca’s grip must have eased off just enough to allow Lando to choke out between gasps for air. “There’s still a chance to save Han…at the East Platform….”

_A chance to save Han?_

While she didn’t want to trust this man any further than she could levitate him, it was that damned sixth sense of hers that suddenly chimed in once again, and a flood of hope and adrenaline surged through her. She deliberately tempered it with a bitter dose of reality; managing an escape would be challenging enough, but turning it into a rescue mission would jeopardize what little advantage they had. Looking up at Chewbacca, Leia searched his reaction, needing his input, and found the answer she was looking for—they had to try.

“Chewie,” she said. It was the simplest of orders but he understood and obeyed in an instant, releasing Calrissian. They both turned and ran down the corridor, not bothering to assist Lando as he fell forward onto his hands, panting.

Leia handed one of the blaster rifles to Chewbacca before they reached the end of the hallway and emerged from the passage to find they were standing on a curved balcony outside the building. It wrapped around the tall tower, offering a vertigo-inducing view of the city below and a stiff wind that washed over her. The sun had finally begun to set, the long planetary day ending as the reds and oranges took over in a dramatic swath of color.

Leia stopped, not knowing which way to go. “East platform?” she asked, unable to hide her desperation, knowing each delay cost precious seconds they couldn’t afford.

Chewbacca hesitated as well, glancing around. «I’m not sure. Do you think he meant this building or another?»

Lando caught up just then, still massaging his throat. “It’s this building. Come on, follow me.” He sprinted down the walkway, and having little choice, they fell in behind him.

Moments later, as they raced past another entrance, Leia heard a familiar mechanical whistle that made her skid to a halt and turn back, her heart thudding.

“Artoo! Artoo! Where have you been?” Threepio cried out in joy before Chewbacca stopped and spun around, cutting off the droid’s view.

Rolling toward them from down another abandoned corridor was the lone, squat, well-known astrotech droid.

“Luke!” she cried out, feeling a surge of optimism as she searched the corridor behind the droid, but her emotions crashed an instant later when he didn’t appear. In all the confusion and her increasing headache, the tenuous connection she’d felt with Luke had faded, the sensation of life around her dimming to little more than a dull buzz in the background, and she had no time to wonder why or try to reestablish it. Frustrated at losing that link just when she needed it most, Leia clutched at her weapon and returned to the task at hand.

There was a hard choice to be made and she had to go with the option most likely to succeed. It was clear that Luke was on a collision course with Darth Vader; the Dark Lord was on the hunt, and maybe Luke had even come to Cloud City seeking that confrontation. If she could still sense that darkness pulsing around them, even now, then surely Luke could as well. Having witnessed the ease with which Vader had dealt with Han’s lethal blaster fire, there was little assistance she could offer Luke at this point other than to pray he knew what he was doing. Han, on the other hand, was helpless and no longer of any interest or value to Vader.

_He’s alive…._

With a deep ache in her chest, Leia made her decision and swung away to chase after Calrissian, with Chewbacca close on her heels.

They rounded a bend on the balcony and passed under an overhanging roof that took them back inside the building. The new corridor was lined with windows, and through them she spotted a circular docking platform in the distance, similar to the one they’d landed on that morning. There was a battered and scored Firespray-31-class gunship perched on the landing strip, hunchbacked and lethal-looking, like some menacing predator waiting to pounce. Then she saw the familiar Mandalorian armor of Boba Fett walking up the entrance ramp as it began rising to seal up behind him. He was leaving.

_No, no, no!_

“We have to hurry!” she cried as they ran past the last windows and entered another wide foyer, only to find a massive blast door blocking her way. “Come on!” she demanded as Lando stopped to punch in a code on the door controls.

It only took a few seconds before the door began to rise, but it felt like an eternity. Not waiting until the shield door was up all the way, Leia ducked under and dashed out onto the walkway that led to Fett’s ship.

But time had run out. The engines were already flaring, sending waves of heat rolling toward her, distorting the air as the ship began to lift up and rotate above the platform. Sheer frustration made Chewbacca fire his blaster rifle at the ship, but the effort was wasted; the ship’s shields deflected the diminutive energy bolts with ease. With engines glowing hot orange, the craft turned away, threatening to incinerate them with its backwash exhaust, then with a mighty shuddering rumble, the bounty hunter’s ship blasted off into the darkening sky.

Numb hands falling to her sides, blaster forgotten, Leia stared up in mute disbelief as the ship shrank away to little more than a pinpoint of bright light, like a star in the night, before winking out as it left the atmosphere.

Just like that, he was gone. She was too late.

_Han…._

Bolts of blaster fire sizzled past her, but she didn’t flinch. She didn’t even register them. Irrational fear—an absurd terror that if she turned her back now, she might lose Han for good—kept Leia frozen in place. If she refused to move, she could still trace that invisible flight path and follow them somehow, could still—

“Leia!” It was Lando yelling behind her, his voice a desperate plea. Their escape was no longer a secret as a handful of stormtroopers had arrived to lay down fire.

For just the briefest of moments, despair threatened again—the sort of despair that had made her ignore the evacuation order on Hoth, when she’d believed both Han and Luke were gone forever from her life. She’d been wrong back then and Han had reappeared to save her from her own demons.

_He’s alive…and he needs you now._

“Leia, come on!”

Red blasts of lethal energy ripped through the air around her.

Maybe that kernel of hope, the one planted so long ago by Han when she’d had little reason to fight on, had indeed germinated and taken hold. Refusing to be uprooted now, that hope had instead bent like a sapling with the maelstrom and snapped back just as strong.

Han was still alive, and that meant there was still hope of rescuing him somehow. This was nothing more than a setback, another challenge to overcome, and what Han needed most was for her to be strong, to charge in to the rescue like he’d done so many times, and save him from the very real demons that held him now. This was not the time to give up and fall apart.

Breathing hard, filled with a new determination, Leia swung the laser rifle up to grip it in both hands once more.

She knew what she needed to do.

 

The End


End file.
